Talon and Tail
by RavenEcho
Summary: 6th yr AU. Severus Snape realizes it's time for him to stop living a lie and be a real father to his son Harry. He guides Harry and Draco as they learn the full truth about Tom Riddle's Horcruxes and navigate mysterious attacks by a man from Snape's past. But what will Harry do when he discovers Snape's true identity? And will Harry and Draco find love on the way? Severitus, slash.
1. Unending Summer

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Disclaimer:** All recognizable ideas and concepts belong to J.K. Rowling. Original plot ideas are my own.

 **Author's note:** Story is AU, beginning after Harry's fifth year ( _OOTP_ ). Several elements of _HBP_ and _DH_ are incorporated. Warnings: Severitus-based and eventual slash pairing. Reviews are very much appreciated!

 **x.T.a.T.x.  
**

 **Chapter 1: Unending Summer**

Anyone who glanced haphazardly at Severus Snape at that particular moment might think that he was petrified for how still and quiet he was. The castle itself matched the man's status; the summer holidays were more than halfway through and all was silent in the dungeons as in the rest of the vast building. That would explain why the Potions Master wasn't muttering to himself as he often did late on school nights, grading papers with scarlet ink and sipping his fourth cup of strong black tea. But it was quite odd, or at least it would be for anyone who knew the man well, that there was no potion bubbling at the small station he kept in his office, no thick new book open on his desk exposed to his intense study, no fresh herbs waiting to be crushed in the marble mortar and pestle… In short, anyone who knew Professor Snape well could attest that his behavior was somewhat off.

Indeed, upon closer examination, Severus Snape looked a bit like a man possessed. He peered into a small, broken mirror fragment with peculiar fascination, and every now and then, his thick brow twitched very slightly, interrupting his utter stillness momentarily.

What absolutely no one would expect was what exactly Severus was viewing in said mirror. Surely, even if he stated outright, "I'm watching Harry Potter sleep," nobody would believe it. Honestly, the sallow wizard hardly believed it himself… Yet, in the seemingly interminable month since Remus Lupin's unexpected visit to Hogwarts, it had become his nightly obsession.

As Severus watched Harry breathe, sigh, whimper, toss, and turn in his sunken twin bed in the smallest bedroom at Number 4, Privet Drive, the man's thoughts positively raced. He turned the werewolf's words over in his head, time and time again. "Severus," the wan man had murmured when he was on his way out of the room, long fingers already on the polished door handle, "Maybe it's finally time." Snape hadn't responded, and Lupin didn't turn back to see his expression.

But Snape had started to believe that Lupin was right. He was grateful for the mirror, for the insight that it granted him into Harry's life. Remus said he had found it among Sirius Black's effects after the Ministry catastrophe, that he recognized it as something the Marauders had the habit of using to talk to one another over the summers back when they were in Hogwarts. "There used to be four pieces," he explained with a sigh. "But two of them have been lost, and the other… well, Harry has it." The lanky man hesitated, and his voice hitched slightly. "I think Sirius wouldn't mind you having this piece. I hope you use it well."

Perhaps Remus hadn't known the depth of what he was doing by giving Severus this fragment of the Marauders' history. But honestly, it was more likely that he knew exactly what he was doing, and exactly how it would affect the man… Severus sighed as he examined the dark-haired fifteen-year-old on the other end of the magical mirror struggle and fuss, even in his supposed time of rest. Tonight, after weeks of contemplating it, he was finally, finally inclined to agree with Lupin's hesitant proposal. Perhaps it was time for Severus to be a father to his troubled teenage son at last, after all.

His fingers trembled and he put the mirror down on his desk with a sharp tap. Harry wasn't going to take this easily. Yet, at his next thought, Severus couldn't restrain the faint smirk that twisted his face: Draco Malfoy wouldn't be too keen on his role in Snape's plan either. But there wasn't too much either of the teenagers would be able to do about it, was there?

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Many miles away, Harry Potter's eyes snapped open and immediately went to the small piece of mirror that was propped up on his chest of drawers as he cursed his sadness and his nearsightedness for tempting his aching heart. He shoved his glasses on to be sure but, yet again, there was no movement in the broken mirror shard that Sirius had gifted him several months prior. It was just his tired brain and fuzzy eyes playing tricks with his emotions, teasing him into thinking he had heard Sirius's snapping fingers or seen a flash of his godfather's thick dark hair. But _why_ was his mind plaguing him this way for weeks now, when before, the pain had principally manifested in long, agonizing nightmares about Sirius's fall through the veil?

The teenager consciously slowed and deepened his breathing the way that Hermione had taught him, and his fingers balled into fists much like Ron's did when he was feeling pressured. Harry was determined. He would _not_ let the visions he faced in his sleep start blurring into his wakened reality like he had over the past year. He sprung up from his bed and went to the dresser, firmly poking the corner of the mirror fragment so it fell on its face. He looked, forlorn, at Hedwig's empty cage. He knew it was better to let her fly free as much as possible during the summer months so as not to provoke the Dursleys unnecessarily, but he missed her. Tucked underneath the corner of the cage was a slightly crumpled letter from Hermione and a clipped Daily Prophet article. At least the Ministry was finally coming to terms with Voldemort's return, Harry thought, reflecting on Rita Skeeter's slightly panicked tone in her latest article. The journalist really was more suited to gossip than to advice about how to properly ward one's home. Still, at least _something_ good had come out of the disaster in the Ministry, since Fudge was at last willing to address the crisis with the British public. And Hermione seemed to be enjoying traipsing around Australia, of all places, with her parents.

His heart only slightly lightened with thoughts of his bushy haired friend, Harry returned to the bed with a resounding groan. He just wanted to sleep until September, even if the nightmares did torture him. At least when term started back he wouldn't be so _alone_.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy lay rigidly in his bed in his corner bedroom on the second floor of Malfoy Manor. His fingers twitched uneasily around the brilliant silver snitch his father had ordered specially made for him as a gift in fourth year. He, unlike Harry, very much wanted to be able to stay as awake as possible until September, thank you very much. Trust _him_ to be able to sleep with Bellatrix Lestrange, of all people, in the house, and the Dark Lord coming and going at all hours. No one had bothered to offer Draco an explanation for why the Dark Lord had gotten the madwoman out of Azkaban so quickly, yet had left Lucius locked up to _rot_. But Aunt Bellatrix showed no lack of confidence in her position. She hadn't, for example, been hesitating in the slightest to taunt Draco about the task the Dark Lord had laid on him… to kill Headmaster Dumbledore by year's end.

Draco shuddered at the thought. He wished he could talk to his mother about it, but Narcissa wasn't much for talking these days and silently quieted him with a flick of nervous eyes anytime he was tempted to try to discuss anything of importance. Draco had soon understood that things had changed, and irrevocably so. Simply put, the Dark Lord was rising quickly, and although Bellatrix appeared to be keeping pace, the Malfoys decidedly were not.

The blond teenager squirmed a bit on his cold bed, tossed the silver snitch aside, and jerked up the left sleeve of his sleeping robes to scratch furiously at his forearm. He wasn't marked but still, the clean flesh there itched constantly, seeming to mock him, as if to remind him at every hour that soon, his arm may not be clean any longer. Finally, Draco drifted into an uneasy slumber, still clutching his left arm in the darkness, the Silver Snitch buzzing quietly in circles around his toes.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

The following morning welcomed in a blossoming heat wave that pervaded the castle and provoked Severus to wake feeling even more unsettled than he already had over the past month, with a thin trickle of sweat dribbling down his back and his robes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. His muscles were tight and sore from sleeping upright in his armchair once again, and he wriggled slightly in his seat.

As seemed to be the trend this summer, his first thought was on the two pupils that constantly consumed his mind, to the point that he often dreamt about them both. After watching Harry for days through the magical mirror and seeing Draco in passing on a few visits to Malfoy Manor to meet with the Dark Lord, the Death Eater-turned-spy certainly had plenty to keep his thoughts occupied. If anyone were to ask Snape for counsel regarding either Potter or Malfoy, he mused grouchily, he would undoubtedly prescribe a vial of Dreamless Sleep for the former, a round of Cooling Cream for the latter, and a couple of dosages of a good Calming Draught for the both of them. However, as no one thought to consult the Potions Master on such topics, he had decided that it was just about time that he repositioned himself so someone might.

With a lazy flick of his alder wand, Snape's robes tightened momentarily around him as they were magically cleansed, then released again with a faintly fresh scent. The wizard stood and looked round at the clock above his desk… half past seven. He had no need to reflect any further, to try and strengthen his resolve. He knew Remus was right; he needed to talk to Dumbledore. Oh, he wouldn't tell him everything, not by any means… but Severus was ready to start putting the wheels into motion, and he was going to convince Albus to let him take on Harry and Draco both.

With that thought solidly in his mind, Snape strode rapidly from his chambers towards the nearest staircase, black robes billowing behind him. It was time to talk to the Headmaster.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Almost an hour later, Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be at somewhat of an impasse as they sat in silence looking at one another across the Headmaster's massive desk. Severus noted that it was still quite empty since Harry had wrecked many of the delicate contraptions that Dumbledore so fancied in his rage at the end of the previous school year.

Even after so many years, Severus thought, he didn't know how Albus managed to look so serious yet still maintain that blasted twinkle in his eye. The wizened warlock was peering speculatively at his Slytherin spy, and he seemed to be enjoying the man's impatience, apparent in his slight fidgeting. Snape refused to be goaded by the relentless gaze, and instead just returned it complacently and tried to avoid looking at his mentor's blackened hand and forearm.

Although several weeks had passed, Dumbledore's wound still bothered him deeply. Yet, he supposed that on some level, Severus was uneasily grateful for the Headmaster's foolishness with the ridiculous cursed ring. It was Dumbledore's injury and his subsequent confession of certain suspicions about the Dark Lord as much as Remus's reluctant promptings that had convinced him that it was time to get more actively engaged in Harry's life. Severus's most recent idea to bring Draco into the picture was an added perk, even if it would complicate what was already one tough potion.

Severus knew that Dumbledore would soon die, due to the natural course of the poison if Snape had anything to say about it, but at Snape's own hand with Draco at his heels if Albus got his way. He also knew that Harry was going to have a hard year ahead, what with Albus's speculations about what it might take to finally kill the Dark Lord.

The pale wizard gritted his teeth. He was sure that he could help Harry and Draco both, and he felt obligated to do so… Perhaps, as Remus had insinuated some weeks prior, it wasn't even about just feeling obligated to protect his biological son and the "son" he had sort of adopted as his own. Perhaps, with James, Lily and now Sirius all gone, and Peter firmly entrenched in the Death Eater ranks while Remus himself was busy ingratiating himself in the werewolf packs of central London, Severus could finally step out of the woodwork, let go of some of the secrets, and just be a father to his boy and "actually live a little," as Remus had put it. Yes, of course it would be complicated with the war, but a deep corner of Severus's heart, a corner which was often denied and silenced, shut away under lock and key, craved it. He had watched Harry from afar for _years_ ; he had acted the part for _years_ , and he was aching to reach out to his student, to his son… And to Draco also, whom he knew needed his Head of House desperately, now more than ever.

Yet, Severus knew he wasn't ready to tell Harry – or even Dumbledore – about his true relationship with the green-eyed boy, or about the full extent of his connection to Lily and the Marauders. For now, it would suffice to rest his intentions upon his continued love for Lily, which Dumbledore already knew about, and a desire to shield the Malfoy heir from imitating his own treacherous path into the dark.

Finally, the graying wizard nodded solemnly. "Alright, my dear boy," Albus said slowly. "You've surprised me, thinking to pull young Harry and Draco together like this. But perhaps you're onto something…" He paused for dramatic effect, as Severus knew he liked to do. The younger wizard resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Albus continued, "If you really think you can help Harry to heal and Draco to escape from his father's influence, then I give you my approval. Mind you, we both know it will not be easy. Both young Harry and young Draco are well set in their ways; Harry resents you incredibly and he and Draco believe they hate each other also… But, you have surprised me more than once before, have you not?" The wizard examined Severus again before continuing. "You can take them to Grimmauld Place; Spinner's End is not suitably protected."

Snape started a bit at the offer; he himself would never have thought to take them to Spinner's End, but rather, had been considering bringing them to Hogwarts. Dumbledore seemed to have guessed his thoughts however, and put up a hand before the younger professor could speak. "I think it will do Harry good to be in Sirius's old home again; it will help him heal. And if you really think you can make progress with young Draco, then it's time for him to start seeing things from the other side of the wand. Grimmauld Place is still Order headquarters, after all. You will bring him in blind so he does not become a de facto Secret Keeper, and, of course, make sure he doesn't learn anything that it wouldn't do for him to know. But Severus," Albus stroked his beard and looked sharply at the man over his half-moon spectacles, "I actually have quite a good feeling about this idea of yours. Well done."

And with that, Dumbledore popped a lemon drop in his mouth, leaned back, and stated calmly, "Now, my dear boy, you just have to convince Voldemort, Narcissa Malfoy, and, of course, Draco himself to play along. I'll take care of Harry."

Severus sighed as he rose to his feet. The day was yet young.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Several hours later on the same warm Tuesday in late July, Severus Snape found himself in the extravagant parlor of Malfoy Manor, on his knees with his long fingers digging into the plush rug. The clever spy knelt now before his other Master, locked once more into a watching, waiting game, parallel to the one he had played with Dumbledore just that morning. Snape bit his tongue as the old resentment bubbled up within him. He knew without a doubt that he was just a puppet for them both, but at this particular moment he would do well to remember the full implications of this role and not upset the Dark Lord with any rebellious musings that might slip out of his mental grip.

He met the Dark Lord's fiercely probing gaze as humbly as years as servitude had taught him to manage, seemingly yielding entirely as the cruel wizard forcefully searched his mind. He did not dare spare a glance for Narcissa, who stood with a bowed head and bated breath somewhere to Severus's right, or for Draco, who twitched nervously by his mother's side, repeatedly rubbing his left arm. Nor did he allow his eyes to wander towards Bellatrix, tall and haughty and with a mad glint in that wicked grin, standing boldly beside her beloved lord. Severus knew that to break his master's gaze meant sure torture, and to let any errant thought be seen by the Legilimens was also out of the question.

At last, Voldemort's pale, stretched lips warped into the tiniest of smiles, and Severus released a slight sigh as he knelt deeper to kiss the edge of his master's thick black robes. "It is my deepest pleasure to serve you, milord," he murmured as he slowly stood.

"Yesss, Severusss, my loyal ssservant," Voldemort responded, twirling his wicked yew wand in between skeletal fingers. "I know Bellatrix is more than willing to train young Draco herself, but it pleases me to imagine my two Hogwarts spiesss working together…"

The Dark Lord's eyes snapped immediately to Draco as the teenager let out a shaky breath. Narcissa discreetly shoved her son forward and the blond dropped to his knees before Voldemort's scrutiny. The Dark Lord's cold, hard fingers clutched the boy's chin and forced his gray eyes to look upward, into his own. He chuckled, a horrible hissing sound reminiscent of his familiar, Nagini.

"You will go with Severusss, young Draco. You will learn from him; you will strive to surpass him, even…" He ran a long fingernail across the boy's cheek. "And perhaps, when you kill that wretched Muggle-lover Dumbledore, you will finally be worthy of the Mark that bonds us, mmm? And if you succeed, I'll revisit the matter of freeing your troublesome father Lucius…"

Draco trembled and rushed to kiss the border of Voldemort's robes, following his professor's example. "Yes, milord, thank you, milord."

Inside, Draco felt like he was drowning. His mother and his favorite professor looked on with stone faces as he groveled. Somewhere in the distance, he heard his aunt's dreadful laughter.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Alone in the dark, swaying slightly on the rusted swing at the Little Whinging playground, Harry Potter felt like he had finally been able to get above water and _breathe_ again. He read through the brief note that had arrived less than an hour before with a flurry of Fawkes' flames for the fifth time and couldn't hold back his grin. Dumbledore was coming for him tomorrow evening. _Only one more day!_ The Headmaster didn't explain where Harry would be going for the rest of the summer; Harry thought that perhaps it would be the Burrow or maybe back to Grimmauld Place again (which was now technically his, his traitorous mind reminded him)… But honestly, he didn't much care. He was more than ready to be away from the Dursleys and back with some of his own kind. Finally, this unending summer was starting to look up.

 _To Be Continued…_


	2. Moving to Grimmauld

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Disclaimer:** All recognizable ideas and concepts belong to J.K. Rowling. Original plot ideas are my own, but it's all in J.K.R.'s playground.

Posting date: Saturday, 5/28/16

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

 **Chapter 2: Moving to Grimmauld**

Severus didn't intend to give Draco any time to recuperate from the shock of the idea that he would be trained how to kill the Headmaster by his own Head of House. Just like any worthy Slytherin, he would use the surprise to his advantage… The moment that Voldemort stepped back from the boy, turning away from the prostrate youth in a sure sign of dismissal, Severus jerked Draco up by the collar of his robes, yanking the teenager backwards against his chest.

"We go _tonight_ , Mr. Malfoy," Severus snarled. "Pack your things."

Bellatrix's cruel cackle resumed and she declared maliciously, "Oh good, Severus, you're finally going to stop babying wee Draco." She stroked her rigid blackthorn wand and cooed, "Remember, little Draco, that dear Severus knows just as well as I do how good of a learning tool the _Cruciatus_ is!"

At this, Narcissa's mouth tightened slightly, but she remained silent. Severus could tell it was an effort for her, and so, surely, could Voldemort, who inspected the blonde woman with wicked eyes and smirked when she didn't respond to her sister's taunts. "Now, now, Bella, play nicely," he hissed, as he glided from the room, Nagini slithering at his feet.

Not fifteen minutes later, Snape had a shrunken trunk full of Draco's things deep in his pocket and had the boy himself by the elbow. Severus's resolve remained firm, even as he noticed the blond teenager shoot a forlorn gaze back at the manor and his mother, who stood just behind the tall iron gates of the mansion's entryway. Severus himself only looked forward, fixated on his objective.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Draco stared earnestly at his mother, wondering if this last look could convey the sad good-bye that no one had given him the time to say to her. It was a somewhat useless musing, he later reflected, as the question would remain unanswered. With the abrupt wrenching jerk of Side-Along Apparition, everything blurred away, but stamped in Draco's mind was the vision of his mother's blue eyes, which no longer flicked about nervously as they had done for days, weeks, years even. Instead, now, at last, her eyes finally met his own, and they were as solid and cold as ice.

When they finally landed, Draco was hit by all the normal aftereffects of Side-Along Apparition that he hated: the dizziness, the slight nausea, the pressure in his head that always made him feel like his skull was compressing his brain. Yet, he clenched his teeth and drew himself up tall at his professor's side, refusing to succumb to the customary urge to double over and wretch. Draco sensed Snape's dark eyes raking over his slender body and he looked up in time to see the older wizard sneer slightly. Before Draco could react, however, Snape turned heel and began walking at a clipped pace along the nondescript sidewalk towards an unknown destination.

There was nothing for it but to follow, which Draco did, looking around himself as he hurried to catch up with his professor's long stride. They were in a small neighborhood that appeared to be inhabited by working class Muggles, Draco realized. Snape led him between two rows of dilapidated brick houses, a couple of which had broken windows that had been taped or boarded up. All of the houses were dark and the street was quiet. Finally, they stopped at the last house on the left, where Snape leaned in closely to the door and murmured a password, then gestured for Draco to enter first, following closely behind him.

Draco barely had a moment to look about the shadowy room, which smelled faintly damp and was sparsely furnished, before he heard the muted click of the front door closing. It was his only warning. Suddenly he was sprawling on the floor with his professor towering over him, wand out and eyes flashing.

"Do you think you'll survive against Dumbledore like that, Mr. Malfoy?" he drawled. "Do you think you'll survive as a Death Eater if you're not. Paying. Attention. At. Every. Single. Moment?"

Draco's entire body was hot; he was furious and ashamed and he wished he could _punch_ Professor Snape. He scrambled to his feet but no sooner than he was up, he was down again, blasted backwards by a silent curse.

Severus sneered. "Just like a _Muggle_. Where's your _wand_ , Mr. Malfoy?"

Even more infuriated now, the blond teen fumbled in his pocket for it, but he could feel a trembling coldness spread from his fingertips as he realized it was missing. At Snape's sinister chuckle, his eyes shot up to see that his professor was using wandless magic to twirl Draco's wand lazily in the air just out of his reach, while his own wand was pointed unwaveringly between Draco's eyes.

Again, Draco struggled to his feet, grabbing his wand from the air as he stood. "P-Protego," he mumbled, and a shivering, weak shield charm materialized around him.

Snape's eyes rolled. "Finally, you've proven you're not a total idiot, even if your wandwork is weak at best," he spat venomously.

Draco gritted his teeth. _Who was this cruel man? What had happened to his Head of House, who was cold, surely, but also formal and familiar and who protected his Slytherins at all costs?_

He opened his mouth to respond but Snape cut him off, declaring, "I told you, _we go tonight_. I don't care what your mother thinks; I will not dither about while the Dark Lord is waiting. At this exact moment, Albus Dumbledore is the only wizard in that school… You will have no distractions as you complete your task," he drawled.

Draco reeled; he wasn't ready, _he didn't even want to_ … and suddenly, his thoughts, his fears seemed to be absolutely screaming… Snape's gaze was burning; surely Draco's eyes were bleeding, or his brain even… There was an iron presence there, totally foreign to him; his deepest fears were rushing forward… and NO!

Draco lifted a hand as if to block Snape's piercing regard; he stumbled but he couldn't look away. This was Legilimency, he realized slowly, stupidly. His father had taught him about it, as well as its defense, Occlumency, but not like this, never like this… his shields, where were they? They were useless, he understood in a moment; there they were, shattered on what he pictured to be the floor of his mind… _Draco was falling_ …

Yet just when Draco felt that he was about to tumble into the abyss of unconsciousness, mind broken, he was released. As his consciousness returned back to the physical world beyond Snape's punishing gaze, Draco found himself on the ground on all fours, whimpering uncontrollably, eyes burning and head throbbing.

His Head of House was squatting in front of him, and when he reached out to grip Draco's chin, the teenager couldn't help it, he flinched. Now Snape knew everything, and surely, he was lost… But after a minute or so Draco realized that his professor's face was changed somehow; it was softer, and his black eyes were warmer, more familiar.

"Draco," he asked quietly. "Do you want to kill Headmaster Dumbledore, yes or no? Be honest, and remember that I already know the answer. I only need to hear you say it out loud."

After the violation of Snape's Legilimency moments before, it wasn't even a struggle for the words to fall from between his chapped lips: "No! No, sir." Draco shuddered and then keened, " _I don't want to die!_ He'll kill me… He'll kill my mother… My father will _rot_ in Azkaban for all he cares…"

Snape nodded slowly and lifted his wand; Draco winced, fearing what might come, but with a murmur his professor produced an image in the air. Draco squinted, quickly dashing the tears from his eyes, and saw that it was a silently revolving phoenix, colored gold with flecks of red.

"Do you know the significance of this image?" Snape asked quietly, sounding almost bored, as if he were in Potions class asking the students about the properties of a certain herb.

Draco nodded hesitantly, confused. "It's the sign of the Order of the Phoenix, sir," he murmured. "The Light army… Everybody knows about it; well, all the Death Eaters do, at least… and that Dumbledore's the leader… But, professor, they would kill me in a heartbeat just as well as the Dark Lord would!"

Snape vanished the phoenix with a wave of his hand and stood, holding out a hand to help the prone teenager up as well. "Mr. Malfoy, just leave that to me," he stated quietly.

He gestured to the couch and with a flick of his wand, he summoned a ratty blanket from a closet somewhere down the hall. "For tonight, just rest. You're safe here. Tomorrow, we will go to visit Headmaster Dumbledore." Draco's breath hitched before he could stop himself, and Severus touched his arm. "Just to _talk_. I made your mother an Unbreakable Vow that I would protect you, and I will. That plan does not actually include offing the headmaster in the dead of the night," he concluded with a slight smirk.

Draco's mouth twitched into an uneasy smile and he lay down stiffly on the worn, lumpy sofa, heart still racing. How easily Snape had manipulated him and played on his deepest fears, how dreadful the man had been as he embodied the very extreme of his title, "Death Eater"… But however shocking his behavior had been, even more surprising was the candidness of his offer of aid. Maybe, Draco thought hopefully, he had a way out of the mess his father had landed him in at last… "Thank you, sir," he breathed as his professor paced silently towards the hall.

For a long moment, Snape didn't respond. Draco had already started to drift slowly towards sleep when he finally heard the grave voice so familiar from years of Potions classes and visits to the Slytherin common room. "Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

The next morning, Severus found himself sitting across from Albus for the second time in roughly twenty-four hours, but this time, he had Draco at his side and he himself was not the focal point of the Headmaster's probing gaze. Snape watched the blond teenager squirm slightly at Dumbledore's prolonged silence and he smirked inwardly, although his face remained stony.

At last, the elderly professor broke his silence and stated solemnly, "Draco, it is no small matter to step away from one's family, particularly when there is a war raging and the stakes grow higher every passing day. You are standing at a fork in the road and both of the paths before you are marked with pain and struggle, but there is the possibility of happiness in each as well. In the way your family would have you choose, you would not have to hide and you would be able to maintain your family relationships; you would remain much as you are, I imagine." Dumbledore's voice grew colder as he proceeded, "On this path, your only growth will be into the darkness that already dwells within you… there will be pain; there is undoubtedly always pain in Voldemort's service, but the more one gives into the dark, the more one grows accustomed to its callous grip, and the less it hurts your heart. One day you might find satisfaction in it, even a sort of… joy."

Severus could feel each and every muscle in his body coiling tensely as he listened to Albus's monologue. He examined Draco closely and knew the boy was affected even more dramatically than he was; the teen's breathing was somewhat shallow and a vein in his neck throbbed in the telltale sign of a racing heartbeat. The horror of it all, Severus thought, was that Dumbledore was not exaggerating in his description of the development of a Death Eater. One only had to look to Bellatrix, or MacNair, or Dolohov or countless others to know that the Headmaster spoke the truth.

After a weighted pause, Dumbledore continued. "Yet, as I warned you, the other path is also wrought with struggle and hurt, and indeed, will undeniably be the more difficult one for you. Along this course, you will often feel as though you are fighting on the losing side. You will be forced to separate yourself from many friends and family members, who at a minimum won't understand you or accept you, but more than likely will label you as a blood traitor and despise you." Albus peered at the young wizard in front of him over his spectacles. "You will find that solitude is a wonderful impetus for growth of a different sort, Draco. You will learn new sides of yourself, and you will discover how to cultivate both the dark and light sides of soul so that you may rise to your maximum potential. You will save many lives, assuming you choose to fight, but of course, you will also see lives lost."

Dumbledore paused again, but in a horrible moment of clarity, Severus knew that his mentor, his _master_ , was not finished. His mind demanded desperately that he stop Dumbledore's next words before they were spoken, but his body resisted; it felt as though he were Petrified, unable to speak or move…

Dumbledore's eyes became sharper and he leaned forward slightly. Severus saw that Draco, too, was paralyzed on the edge of his chair, trapped in his Headmaster's gaze. "Or, perhaps," Albus said slowly, seemingly savoring each word before it left his mouth, "Perhaps, you will choose a third path that runs parallel to the former, and you will elect to live a double life, constantly straddling the blade of the knife, appearing to walk down one path, while actually serving another…" Albus nodded in Severus' direction. "It is a noble course, but irrefutably the most treacherous of the three." He sighed, "Many who set forth on this path are lost in a way much worse than a simple descent into the darkness. Rather than merely embracing the darkest parts of their souls, as Death Eaters do, they lose themselves entirely. It is not a choice for the weak of heart."

Severus's blood boiled and he wished, as he often did, that he could fly across the desk and pummel the Headmaster, the gallant lord of the light who spoke pretty words and fussed about his students having choices and then sent witches and wizards to Hell itself and expected them to come back with detailed reports, a rescued Muggleborn or two, and their soul intact and clean.

The Potions Master's voice was cold and clipped as he replied to Dumbledore's words before Draco could. "Thank you, Headmaster," he spat, "for your encouragement. I am sure you will understand that Mr. Malfoy may need some time to make his decision, considering the choice's implications, which you have outlined so very clearly—"

But Draco interrupted hastily, "Please – sir – I know I don't want to be a Death Eater! I don't want to have to kill people, or torture them!" He looked anxiously at Snape, then Dumbledore, and added plaintively, "Can your Order protect me? I promise I won't betray them… I know last year was bad when you were gone but honestly, we Slyths just wanted to be do alright by our families and it seemed the best way was going along with Umbridge… She was with the Ministry, after all, and most of our parents have such connections there—"

Dumbledore lifted a hand that immediately halted Draco's nervous prattle. "Draco, I am sworn to protect my students, and it is a promise I hold to with unwavering faithfulness and pride. Professor Snape has also expressed great concern for your welfare, and as a representative of the Order, I will gladly entrust you to his care." The headmaster directed a small smile at the blond wizard. "I appreciate your earnest desire to resist Voldemort's sway, and I expect that, whatever your future choices are, you will continue endeavoring to do what your heart tells you is right. For the remainder of the summer, you may reside with Professor Snape wherever he deems fit. I trust him greatly, and I know he will guide you well. You may always come to me also, of course, if you ever find yourself in need."

Severus looked on as Draco visibly relaxed and he could feel a great deal of the tension in the air abate, although his own heart was still churning. He rose to his feet and put a hand on the blond teenager's shoulder. "Thank you, Headmaster. If we may?"

Dumbledore nodded magnanimously, "But of course, Professor." His eye twinkled and Snape again resisted the urge to pounce.

"Come now, Mr. Malfoy," Severus steered the boy gently towards the crackling fire in the corner and scooped up a handful of Floo Powder. "We'll go together."

The last thing Severus saw as he and Draco spun out of Albus's office was the wizened warlock hunched over his desk as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He was staring fixedly at his ruined hand and appeared, Snape thought nonsensically, to have already forgotten entirely about the meeting that he had finished seconds before.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Draco groaned and tried to tuck his elbows in closer to his side. If there was any mode of transport he hated even more than Side-Along Apparition, it was sharing a Floo passage. He wasn't sure how far the filthy magical journey would last; he hadn't heard the destination that Snape had called out, a detail he suspected wasn't an accident.

At last, they jerked to a halt and Draco tumbled out of the fireplace into a dimly lit but large kitchen. His professor exited the fireplace much more gracefully, flicking small bits of ash off his shoulders and shaking out his lank hair.

Wary from his most recent experience entering an unfamiliar home, Draco drew out his wand and carefully took in his surroundings, while Snape looked on with a rather bored expression. Despite his precaution, however, the blond teen still jumped out of his skin when a thin sandy-haired man popped into the kitchen doorway, calling "Severus?"

The man, who looked oddly familiar to Draco, seemed startled to see two people standing in the kitchen instead of just the Potions Master. Snape put a hand on Draco's shoulder and with the other, gestured that the boy should lower his wand. Draco did, with some hesitation.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape drawled, "It is rather rude to approach one's host with wand drawn. This is Professor Lupin; Professor Lupin, perhaps you will remember young Mr. Malfoy?"

Suddenly, Draco remembered all too well exactly _why_ this man was so familiar. Defense professor, third year. _Werewolf_. He recoiled slightly before he could help himself, and then flinched when he saw Snape's sneer.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Snape hissed, "as you seem to have recalled, Professor Lupin is a werewolf. However, as you may have noticed, he is now standing before you, appearing quite _human_ , and I would _recommend_ that you consider greeting him properly before—"

The wan werewolf lifted a hand to stop his old colleague's lecture. "It's quite alright, Severus. Really, I'm used to it," he sighed. "Draco, is it, if I remember correctly?" he lifted his brows and continued at the teenager's jerky nod, "Draco, I can assure you that I mean you no harm, and, as Professor Snape implied quite lucidly, I am at no risk of losing control in any sense at this particular point in the month." The man chuckled throatily, "And, furthermore, I promise you that in addition to taking Wolfsbane, I will distance myself quite satisfactorily as those precise dates approach…"

Draco felt himself twitch slightly, involuntarily, and he cursed inwardly at the flush he knew was rising up his neck. "I'm sorry, Professor Lupin," he muttered. "It's just that Fenrir Greyback and the like have been hanging about the manor this summer, and it's been… well, it's not been _pleasant_."

The slender professor's mouth tightened, but he responded calmly, "Yes, I would think not." He entered the kitchen properly and gestured to the expansive table in the middle of the room. "Come, Draco, sit, and do call me Remus. I am a professor no longer… I'll just make some tea… Severus, if you'll join us?"

Draco eased onto the nearest stool and peered around to look at his professor, who met his gaze with a mighty scowl. Yet, the teenager thought it was odd but that at this exact moment, Snape appeared more relaxed than perhaps he had ever seen him.

He looked around the room again and as Remus set about making the tea, Draco reflected on all that had occurred over the past twenty-four hours. Now, to his lasting surprise, he found himself in a mysterious house in an unknown location with his Head of House and a werewolf, and strangely enough, he felt safer than he had in years. If this was what being around Snape for just a day brought about, Draco wondered, what would tomorrow hold?

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

As Harry Potter considered the mess strewn about his cramped bedroom at the house on Privet Drive, he, too, pondered what the next day would bring. Would he be waking up in the cheerful room that he always shared with Ron at the Burrow to his mate's loud snores and sunlight pouring in through the gaudy orange curtains? Or would he be awakened early by the creaks, groans, and whispers of the ancient Black family home at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place?

Checking the small, cracked clock that hung a bit crookedly on the wall above the dresser, Harry cursed to himself and started chucking things into his trunk left and right. Textbooks; ripped out _Prophet_ articles; the most recent issue of _The Quibbler_ ; his telescope; the Marauder's Map; jeans and odd socks and his invisibility cloak; his pewter cauldron; which he had been using as a trash can. He jerked up the loose floorboard under the bed and added the stack of stashed letters from Hermione and Ron and the photo album that Hagrid had gifted him several years prior. Finally, he picked up the broken mirror shard from where he had left it lying on his dresser and after quickly examining it, he gently tucked it into his now very full trunk as well.

Just as he clicked the lid shut, he heard the grandfather clock in the downstairs hall and the doorbell chime simultaneously. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Dumbledore had arrived just as he said, at seven o'clock on the dot. Seconds after processing that cheerful thought, the harsh scrape of a chair being abruptly pushed back from the kitchen table resounded up the staircase and Harry clearly heard his Uncle Vernon shout, "Who the blazes shows up at the door during dinnertime?"

Harry froze with his arm outstretched for Hedwig's empty cage. He had completely forgotten to warn the Dursleys about his Headmaster's imminent arrival. He choked back nervous, exhilarated laughter at the pure joy of close freedom and the satisfaction of annoying his relatives, and he pounded down the stairs. He arrived at the bottom just in time to see his uncle opening the door and he cried out in a jumble, "Uncle Vernon – Aunt Petunia – I forgot to let you know that Headmaster Dumbledore would be coming to pick me up tonight and look at that here he is…"

Harry's uncle sputtered silently, but Dumbledore himself, who stood tall in the doorframe wearing a long black traveling cloak and a pointed hat, merely smiled, looking amused by Harry's antics. "Well, I believe that welcome was a delightful surprise for us all. Good evening, everyone," he said politely, stepping into the foyer. "Let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house," he continued, shutting the front door behind himself. "It is not ideal to linger overlong outdoors as of late, after all."

Petunia rose from the table and stood nervously just behind her husband's broad right shoulder, looking for all the world, Harry thought absurdly, like she was his second, steeling for a duel. Dudley, he saw, remained at the table, staring obstinately at his almost empty plate, but the boy had wrapped his arms tightly around himself, revealing his intense anxiety.

"Hello, Dudley," Dumbledore said quietly to Harry's obese cousin, who was now trembling slightly. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he stated kindly, looking at him with some pity. "Harry"— The Headmaster's warm eyes sought out the dark-haired teenager's—"If you're quite ready? I wouldn't want to trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality for too long, especially considering that I've unintentionally interrupted their meal." His gaze lingered on the table, which was only set for three, and his mouth tightened.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Harry agreed quickly. "Just a moment." And he charged back up the stairs, returning almost at once with his trunk clunking behind him and Hedwig's cage clutched in his other hand.

Harry found his aunt and uncle still standing gawking at Dumbledore, speechless, though they had repositioned themselves so they were in between the wizard and their son Dudley. Dumbledore himself appeared unconcerned; indeed, Harry realized that he was busy unsticking two lemon drops from one another. The man reached to Harry, who saw that the hand he used was blackened and shriveled as if it had been badly burned, and asked calmly, "Would you like a lemon drop, Harry?"

The teenager stuttered, "Sure, sir, thank you. But sir – what happened to your—?"

"Later, Harry," Dumbledore responded seriously. "There is just one small order of business to which I must attend. Please sit down."

Harry obeyed, pulling out the fourth chair at the wooden kitchen table, and the Headmaster immediately redirected his piercing blue eyes to Harry's aunt and uncle. Dumbledore's face remained calm, but Harry felt as if the temperature in the kitchen had dropped a few degrees and he was starkly grateful not to be on the receiving end of that cold regard.

"Fifteen years ago," Dumbledore said gravely, "I brought Harry into this home with the expectation that he would be loved, protected, and cared for by his last living relatives. However, you have never treated Harry as a son. Indeed, he has known nothing but neglect and cruelty at your hands. I have evoked powerful magic that has protected your family and Harry both for as long as he has called his place home. However grudgingly it was granted, the space you have provided him here has meant a certain safety for him against forces of evil beyond your imagination. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, when he gains legal status as an adult in our world. All I ask from you now is that you allow Harry to return once more to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will guarantee that the protection continues until that time."

The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife. The Dursleys still did not break their stunned, tense silence. Dudley's mouth hung slightly open and his eyes darted quickly between Dumbledore and his parents. Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon appeared almost as if he were choking but trying his hardest not to cough, Harry noted, and Aunt Petunia was oddly flushed.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore pronounced after the silence had stretched on uncomfortably. "We had best set about our way; it will be getting dark soon. Do you have everything?" Harry nodded and his Headmaster turned once more to the Dursleys, nodding curtly. "Until we meet again."

Dumbledore waved his wand at Harry's trunk and it immediately shrunk to a ball the size of a pea, which he then tucked into his pocket. He strode firmly towards the front door and Harry followed, pausing only to look back over his shoulder and say awkwardly, "Goodbye then. See you next summer."

Again, the three Dursleys responded only with silence, clenched jaws, and blushing red faces.

Harry slipped out of the front door and smiled up at Dumbledore, who was looking at him warmly through his half-moon spectacles with a familiar twinkle in his eye. He offered Harry his hand, this time the whole and healthy one, rather than the scarred one he had extended to the teen a few minutes before.

"Harry, I imagine you remember me contacting you some weeks ago informing you that Sirius bequeathed Grimmauld Place, along with his entire inheritance, in even parts to you and Remus?" When Harry nodded, Dumbledore continued, "That is where I shall be taking you now, as I consider it to be the safest place for you to spend the rest of your summer, and the most productive. Furthermore, I think you'll find the company there quite—interesting. Now, hold on tight…"

And with a pop, the wizened warlock and teenage wizard disappeared.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

Once again, Draco found himself sitting at the kitchen table in the house he had quickly realized belonged to some old pureblood wizarding family, although he hadn't yet been able to figure out which. Snape had stepped out a few hours before and still hadn't returned, and Lupin seemed content to putter silently about the house, although Draco realized he was never left alone in any one room for too long. Many rooms were shut off, and so it was to the quiet kitchen that Draco gravitated, time and time again. He was slowly sipping at a lukewarm cup of tea when all hell broke loose.

Abruptly, he heard a door slam one floor up, which was immediately followed by a terribly colossal racket that Draco rapidly identified as a woman furiously screaming profanities. He rocketed out of the room and bounded up the stairs two at a time to stumble into the foyer, where he was met by Remus. The werewolf was staring at the doorway and looked positively delighted, Draco realized, and he followed the man's gaze.

There, just in front of a raging portrait of a horrid woman who looked extraordinarily like his Aunt Bellatrix and flanked by Headmaster Dumbledore, stood no other than Harry bloody Potter.

 **x.T.a.T.x.**

 _To be continued…_

 **Author's note:** Hello, everyone, thanks for reading! And a HUGE thank you to all who have favorited this new story of mine and/or put it on alert. I have this "novel" outlined in roughly 30 chapters or so, and plan to update at least once a week, hopefully twice.

That being said, I would love to hear your feedback and thoughts on how I'm doing. Please consider taking a quick moment to drop me a ** **REVIEW** ** and share your opinion on the story so far. I'm particularly curious to see how you guys think I'm doing on capturing the characters' personalities, although I welcome any comments!

Tata for now, until we meet again! (Said in a much nicer tone than Dumbledore to the Dursleys, fear not).


	3. A Chance Find

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 3: A Chance Find**

 **Post date: 6/3/16**

Harry peered up at the familiar house on Grimmauld place, still clutching Dumbledore's arm tightly even after they had landed. He felt as though his entire body had been tightly squeezed and he was still a bit dizzy.

"Sir? Did we just apparate?"

The older wizard smiled down at him. "Yes, Harry, and you did very well. People often vomit after their first time. Now, shall we enter?" he gestured the teen forward.

Harry took a deep breath and flashes of memory rushed forward in his mind: his godfather's whooping laugh at some prank by Fred and George, Sirius's very vocal annoyance about being left alone in the house he hated, how the man despised the house elf Kreacher, who had eventually manipulated Harry into believing the worst… The teen shuddered slightly and tried to deepen his breathing a bit more. He didn't want to break down in front of Dumbledore, especially after the weeks he had already spent trying to process his godfather's untimely death.

Determined, Harry finally pushed through the front door, standing aside to let his Headmaster pass through also. However, he was spooked slightly by the nearest shrunken house elf head on the wall, which loomed over him. He had totally forgotten about them and thought for an irrational moment that it was Kreacher. In his alarm, he forgot another key element of the Black house's front hall and shut the front door with a slam.

"FILTHY HALF-BLOOD! BLOOD TRAITOR! WHY ARE YOU HERE, POLLUTING MY HOUSE WITH YOUR FILTH?" Sirius's horrible mother raged.

Harry, however, was too distracted to turn and jerk the curtains over the portrait to shut the vile woman up again. Remus Lupin had approached the foyer from down the hall with a wide grin on his face, and Harry beamed, suddenly extraordinarily grateful to Dumbledore for bring him here, to the house he had so dreaded reentering.

Before Harry could greet his old professor, however, another figure appeared and the dark-haired teen was overcome with shock.

" _Malfoy?_ " Harry snarled, turning to look up at Dumbledore in disbelief. "What is _he_ doing here?"

But before Draco – or anyone else – could speak, there was a creak on the staircase behind the blond teen and Harry's jaw dropped even lower as he saw his Potions professor emerge from the lower floor of the house, still brushing off flakes of ash from the floo.

Walburga Black's portrait erupted when she saw Snape. "TRAITOR! SCUM OF THE EARTH! HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE AFTER YOU DEFIED YOUR RIGHTFUL MASTER, YOU DESPICABLE TWO-FACED-"

The sallow wizard whipped out his wand without hesitation and flicked a spell at the portrait, immediately causing the curtains to snap back into place and cover the raging woman again.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore finally spoke. "Now perhaps we should retire to the kitchen briefly to explain to young misters Harry and Draco why exactly they'll be sharing this home over the coming weeks?"

Harry jerked out a nod, still trembling with anger at the sight of the two hated wizards. He had already heard Dumbledore's explanation about Snape's role in the whole Ministry fiasco, but he thought stubbornly that the man still could have done something sooner somehow so they wouldn't have gone running off into disaster. Maybe, he thought, if Snape had helped them earlier, Sirius wouldn't be dead. And Malfoy senior had been at the Ministry too. There was _nothing_ Dumbledore could say to make Harry happy about their presence. At least Remus was here too.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Hours later, as the clock approached midnight, Harry lay awake in the twin bed in the same room he had shared with Ron over the past summer. Remus had reminded him that the house was half his and he could pick whichever room he wanted, but Harry honestly felt no desire to explore his godfather's old home anymore.

The dark-haired teen ran through Dumbledore's words over and over again in his mind. He had explained that _Malfoy_ needed protection because with his father still in prison and Bellatrix Lestrange already back on the loose, things had gotten quite slippery. It seemed that Voldemort was working to incorporate the blond teen into the ranks of the Death Eaters, even though he was still in Hogwarts. _Not like Malfoy would have a problem with that_ , Harry thought furiously.

Yet, when he really considered it, Harry could see that Malfoy hadn't seemed quite himself. He was nervous and twitchy, and seemed to have some sort of tick of grabbing his left arm and scratching it. Since the blond wizard was wearing a button-up with the sleeves folded to his elbows, Harry had seen that he indeed bore no Dark Mark. Even stranger than his uneasy mannerisms, however, was Draco's new deference to Professor Dumbledore. Although he was completely silent during the Headmaster's explanations, he looked meek and appreciative rather than haughty and bored, as he normally appeared. Harry had even heard Draco mutter a fervent "Thanks again, sir" when Dumbledore was taking his leave after dinner.

Snape, however, was a different story. Dumbledore had firmly told Harry that the professor was there not only for Harry's protection, but also Draco's. Furthermore, he had insisted, both teens needed more training in Occlumency than they had previously undergone, and "Professor Snape" was the man for the job, according to the Headmaster. His resolved tone and serious eyes had left Harry no room for debate. Even Remus had nodded along in agreement with Dumbledore's words, Harry noticed.

The fifteen-year-old wizard growled in frustration and punched his pillow. There was nothing for it. He was still a minor and knew that realistically, he couldn't just go wherever he wanted, especially now that Voldemort was back and becoming increasingly active. For now, he was stuck at Number Twelve Grimmauld, like it or not.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

It was roughly one o'clock in the morning and Draco cursed mentally as he ducked into an empty room and stubbed his toe on a large chest that stood near its door. Snape and Lupin were coming down from the upper floor and he didn't want to get caught wandering out of bed, even if he was just making himself a cup of tea. He was grateful that they had gotten him away from his dreadful aunt, and more importantly, from the Dark Lord. He didn't want to upset them in anyway if it meant he didn't have to be near _him_.

Once Draco was successfully concealed in the room and the near miss was averted, his attention was divided in two ways. First, he could hear an odd sound coming from the next room over, where Potter was sleeping; it almost sounded like muted screams or whimpers. _Was he having a nightmare?_ Draco wondered.

Second, Snape and Lupin were conversing in rapid whispers that he could barely make out. He leaned a little closer to the slightly cracked door of the room he had hidden in and strained his ears. They seemed to have paused outside of Potter's bedroom, a few feet from the entrance of the room he was in.

"Harry's having nightmares," Draco heard the werewolf's soft voice.

His professor responded in silky tones, "Yes. He's been having them nightly, I believe."

The werewolf seemed to hesitate before asking, "Oh? So you've been using the mirror I gave you, have you?"

"Yes," Snape replied curtly.

Draco heard a faint chuckle in response. "Calm down, Severus, I'm not judging you. I – understand. Really. Have you decided when you're going to tell him?" He paused and then continued, sounding deeply curious and hopeful, "You _are_ going to tell him, aren't you?"

"Yes, Remus," came the professor's snappy retort. But then his voice softened, "I just don't know when, or how. This will change everything."

"Indeed."

Their voices faded away as the two men continued down the next staircase. Draco took his opportunity to slide noiselessly from the empty room and dart furtively up the stairs to the bedroom that Remus had directed him to earlier that day.

As he lay down in the bed, he wondered… Why was Potter having nightmares? And what life-changing secret was their professor keeping from him?

 **x.T.a.T.x**

The following morning, Severus awoke early and prowled down to the cavernous kitchen to put a pot of tea on. He was intensely grateful that Remus had sent the cantankerous house elf that normally resided in the house away to the Hogwarts kitchens. Snape didn't mind preparing his own meals, and even preferred doing many things the Muggle way.

When Remus walked in a little while later, sniffing appreciatively, the tea kettle was set to whistle at any moment, a couple of eggs skittered around in a pot of boiling water, and a rash of bacon sizzled on the stove. Lupin was followed closely by Draco, who eyed Snape suspiciously, and Harry, who was still yawning and rubbing sleep out of his eyes and didn't seem to truly take in his surroundings. Still silent, the three men found their seats around the vast wooden table while Severus puttered around along the counter, poking the bacon in the skillet with a fork while his magic was at work peeling the boiled eggs.

A few minutes later, Severus smirked inwardly when Harry, finally waking up in mind rather than solely in body, hissed in a manner reminiscent of Ron Weasley, "Bloody hell."

Having risen in quite good humor that morning, Severus merely sneered, "Bloody hell, _sir_ , Mr. Potter," and turned away before the dark-haired teen could respond. The joke was subtle, but Snape could quite easily imagine the shocked expressions of his two students and the barely contained laughter on the old werewolf's face without having to see it for himself.

Next to break the silence was Draco, who drawled, "Careful, Potter, you might catch flies if you don't close your mouth soon."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry responded vehemently. "You're barely welcome here as it is and you won't be welcome at all if you can't mind your manners."

Snape whirled around with a biting response ready on his tongue but Lupin beat him to it: "Harry, you would do well to remember that this is _my_ permanent home now," the werewolf spoke firmly. "Draco is my guest just as much as you are, and _all_ my guests will treat one another with courtesy." He looked at Harry pointedly, and Severus watched as the boy squirmed slightly, peering down at the table, while Draco stared determinedly towards the wall.

The silence stretched on as the breakfast plates were served and four mouths chewed and swallowed, the air around them thick with tension. Severus wondered if Remus would be feeling discouraged by Harry's wildly apparent feelings of anger and resentment, but he imagined that he probably wouldn't. He himself knew his son's mannerisms well after years of close observation, and he recognized that Harry would have to surrender to the explosion budding within him before Severus and Remus would be able to get through to him at all. The boy still didn't know how to control his anger; Severus remembered that he was similar as a teenager. It wasn't until he had mastered Occlumency as a young Slytherin that he was able to learn to manage his own emotions effectively.

Severus's musings were interrupted by a resounding thud from the floor above, followed by Walburga Black's raucous insults. Remus jumped to his feet, muttering, "That'll be Tonks." He hurried out of the room, calling back, "She always trips over that blasted umbrella stand" for Draco's benefit, Severus thought, since all the Order members knew how clumsy the auror was.

The professor noticed Draco's questioning regard and he clarified, "Nymphadora Tonks. An auror and member of the Order." After a moment of reflection, he added, "And your first cousin. She's Andromeda Black's only daughter."

Draco gave his professor a thankful nod, but Snape saw a shadow pass over his face and he knew the blond teen was all too aware of why he wouldn't have met this particular cousin until now. He sighed to himself, but felt proud when the young wizard immediately straightened himself up in his chair and adopted a vaguely determined expression. He really was on his best behavior, Severus thought. Meanwhile, Harry was still moping and picking at his bacon a few chairs over, despite the fact that Snape remembered he had grown quite fond of the young auror since meeting her the previous summer.

Tonks stumbled into the kitchen with all her usual fanfare, crying out, "Wotcher, Severus, Harry." She strode boldly over to the Malfoy heir and stuck out a hand, declaring, "And you must be Draco! I'm your black sheep of a cousin, but you can just call me Tonks," she winked cheerfully.

The metamorphmagus seemed to sense the mood in the room almost at once and she clapped her hands. "Right, Remus said you lot were just sitting about. C'mon then, I think I've got just the job for you!"

Severus felt his eyes roll almost of their own accord. The woman was crazy, but he had no doubt that Nymphadora Tonks was just the person to start pulling both Draco and Harry out of their shell. _Hopefully_ , he thought, _she didn't also drive him utterly mad while she did it_.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Draco slowly followed the young pink-haired witch up the stairs, leaving a wide berth for Harry, whose eyes still seemed to be shooting daggers. Snape and Lupin trailed behind, seemingly curious about what Tonks had in mind. Finally, at the very top of the multilevel townhouse, Draco found himself facing two doors, one to either side of the landing. Tonks bowed slightly, gesturing to the one on the left. Upon closer examination, the blond noticed a small silver plaque on the door, etched with the name "Regulus Arcturus Black."

Now, after having appeared so confident just moments before, Tonks looked somewhat hesitant, and she shot a glimpse past Draco at the two professors that flanked him. "S-Sirius never did want to clean out Regulus's room," she explained in a rush. "But I thought it might be a good way for Draco and Harry to start their visit. Most of the rest of the house is still in decent shape after all the cleaning you lot did last summer," she shrugged.

Draco noticed that Harry was leaning into the staircase rail, trembling slightly, taking deep breaths and clenching and unclenching his fists. He peered back towards Snape and Lupin to gauge their reactions. The former's mouth was tight, and he arched one defiant brow when he noticed Draco's scrutiny. The latter, however, was nodding slowly.

"Good idea, Tonks," Remus said simply.

With that, the young auror whispered " _Alohomora!_ " and when the door swung open with a creak, she motioned for Harry and Draco to go in first.

Draco was immediately surrounded by the familiar tones of emerald and silver that also decorated his own bedroom back at the manor. Indeed, he quickly realized that Regulus' room was spookily similar to his own in its entirety. Draco also had the Malfoy family crest pictured in his room, just like Regulus had the Black one, although it looked like Regulus had drawn his by hand, whereas Draco's father had charmed the image onto his son's wall. There was also a Quidditch team photo pasted by the window, similar to Draco's poster of his own house team that he had pasted up a few years before.

Suddenly, his mouth felt dry and even his throat seemed to be conflicting. He felt Harry's eyes hot on the back of his neck as he paced slowly towards the far wall, where there was an odd collage of sorts full of yellowed newspaper clippings. "You-Know-Who continues rising," "Muggle-born families flee as You-Know-Who's reign of terror expands," "Death toll is mounting as aurors resign," the headlines declared boldly.

Still lost in the blaring headlines, Draco struggled to swallow. He didn't look round, but finally croaked, "Regulus was Sirius's brother?" When he heard Tonks's quiet affirmative, he asked the question that, for him, naturally followed. "And he was a Death Eater?"

This time it was Remus's melodious voice that responded, "Yes, Draco, he was–" The man's voice hitched and he paused for a long moment, during which Draco turned to look at him. Harry was also staring intently at the werewolf, Draco noted. Finally, Lupin continued. "When he died, many still believed him to be faithfully in Voldemort's service."

Harry pounced on the information and burst out, "What do you mean, they believed him to be faithful to Voldemort!? Sirius told me last year that it was Voldemort himself who killed him!"

Draco noticed the sneer that flashed across Snape's face, but it was Lupin that replied. "Yes, Harry, you're right. Regulus was killed by his fellow Death Eaters, without a doubt." The werewolf sent a measured gaze in Draco's direction, then added, "As Sirius will have most assuredly told you, Regulus deeply regretted his decision to become a Death Eater. But Voldemort does not take kindly to those who defect from his ranks."

Draco felt a rush of coldness down his spine and looked up to find Snape's black eyes seeking out his own. Suddenly, he was sure there was something more to Regulus's story than what Lupin had just shared. But the moment the thought occurred to him, it was interrupted by Tonks's resolutely jovial tones.

"Well then, Draco, Harry, I had said we were going to _clean_ the room, not just stand about!" And with a flick of her wand, both boys were left clutching a broom in one hand and a dust rag in the other.

Draco peered at the ornate wooden furniture, which was covered in a thick lair of dust, and gritted his teeth. He knew that faced with the choice of being surrounded by house elves who would gladly clean everything but also having to accept the Dark Lord as a constant guest, versus doing a bit of cleaning himself the Muggle way and being free of the evil man's horrible proximity, he would be on his hands and knees polishing the furniture any day of the week.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry crouched down and scrubbed furiously at a dark stain on the wooden floor that wouldn't come up no matter how hard he rubbed at it. The longer he had spent cleaning the filthy room, the more he had felt his frustrations subside. It was even difficult to maintain his active fury against Snape and Malfoy, he acknowledged, when they were both putting forth such an obvious effort in the arduous chore.

He looked up again at the blond wizard, who was on the opposite side of the room, now standing on the very tips of his toes with the broom above his head, knocking down a stubborn cobweb in the corner of the ceiling. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, Harry saw, and his hair was mussed. Yet, Draco hadn't voiced a single complaint, which was highly abnormal in comparison with Harry's standard experiences with the spoiled prat.

Harry's contemplation of his school rival was interrupted by Tonks's excited whistle. The dark-haired teen looked around and found the young witch on her belly halfway under the bed. After a moment, she wriggled backwards, dragging out a polished wooden case that was obviously heavy, since it scraped loudly against the floor.

The case's form looked distantly familiar to Harry, and when he noticed a tiny smile dawn on Malfoy's face, it clicked. "Is that–?"

Tonks beamed, "I think so!" Remus inched a bit closer, fingering his wand, and Tonks pulled out her own, directing it at the box.

With a flick, the box sprung open and Harry's hopeful suspicions were confirmed: it was a full Quidditch training set, complete with struggling Bludgers, the bright red Quaffle, and, most importantly, he thought, the gleaming golden Snitch.

Inspired by the lucky find, Harry had an excellent idea. "Did you bring your broom, Malfoy?" At the blond's slow nod, Harry couldn't hold back a wide grin. Perhaps the coming weeks wouldn't be so bad after all.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry's sudden good humor and bright smile seemed infectious, Draco thought, as he watched everyone light up around him while they examined the obviously pricey Quidditch set. However, one face remained unchanged. Draco eyed his professor, who appeared abruptly serious and disturbed. Intrigued, he followed the man's fixed gaze, and found that Snape was staring at a small black book, about the size of a man's hand, that was snagged under a corner of the Quidditch case and had been pulled out with it.

Draco slowly reached out and retrieved the book, and the heavy wooden case gave a slight _thump_ as it shifted. Instantly, all eyes were on Draco as the book fell open in his hand.

"What is it, Draco?" Tonks asked curiously, craning her neck to get a better view of the small book's contents.

Amazed by what he saw inside, the blond breathed, "It's a sketchbook." He slowly flipped through the pages and found drawing after drawing, all done in black ink. Each one showed incredible skill: there were portraits, animals, objects, and symbols.

Lupin peeked over Draco's shoulder and commented, "I bet it belonged to Regulus… He was constantly drawing when we were all at Hogwarts. Wasn't he, Severus?"

Draco, along with Remus, looked up at the still silent spy. He looked stricken, his mouth tense and his fingers twitching slightly, but as soon as he caught their gaze his face automatically shifted into a more relaxed expression and he merely affirmed, "Yes, he was."

Just then, Harry's hand snaked out and he stopped Draco from turning the page again. Before the blond teen could protest, Harry hissed, "Wait… That looks so familiar…" Draco looked down to find a sketch of a black diary and shrugged.

"It looks like it's a drawing of a diary, Potter. I guess most of them are pretty similar, aren't they?"

Harry leaned over to squint at the image and then spat, "Yeah. But most of them don't have Voldemort's name on them, do they?" He rocked back on his haunches and Tonks and Lupin looked at him sharply. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, right there on the cover," Harry gestured at the drawing. "It was the diary that _your father_ gave Ginny Weasley back in our second year so she would be manipulated into opening the Chamber of Secrets." His green eyes blazed. "I would recognize it _anywhere_ ," he added venomously.

Draco felt like he had been punched in the stomach. _His father had done what?_ The thick silence in the room seemed to positively _echo_.

After what seemed like an eternity, Snape finally spoke, saying gravely, "I'll take that, Draco," and gently pulling the small book from the blond teen's hand and then tucking it into the deep pocket of his robes. "I think it's time for lunch," he said quietly.

"But sir!" Harry protested, looking enraged.

Snape whirled, black eyes flashing, but his voice remained low. "I said, it's time for lunch."

Still shocked by Potter's poisonous testimony about his father and Snape's reaction to the whole thing, Draco trailed after the others down the stairs. Why had his father given the youngest Weasley such a dangerous item? And why, even stranger, had Regulus drawn a picture of the same item who-knows-how-many years earlier? What was the significance of the Dark Lord's diary, and what did Snape know about it? _Judging by his reactions_ , Draco mused, _Potter was just as curious about that last bit as he was._

 _ **To be continued…**_

Author's Note: Whew! Third chapter's up! I'm busy studying for doctoral exams this summer, and I've made an agreement with myself that I can't post a new chapter until I finish reading a novel (each one usually takes me about 2 days to read), but this time I got stuck on a really long one! So it took me longer to get Chapter 3 out to you guys.

A huge, huge thank you to all who have followed and favorited the story, and especially to the couple who have reviewed! I am still getting my feet wet after having "retired" from Fanfiction for quite a while, **so I would really appreciate you taking the time to REVIEW and let me know what you think!**

Tata for now!


	4. Olive Branches & New Lessons

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 4: Olive Branches & New Lessons **

**Post date: 6/14/16**

Draco poured himself a steaming cup of the tea he had just brewed and peered up at the towering grandfather clock that stood at one end of the Black family kitchen. He sighed when he saw that it was almost 1:30 in the morning; he was up late yet again, unable to sleep. Tonight, at least, his arm wasn't bothering him. Instead, it was his racing thoughts that prevented his mind from shutting down into a more restful state.

The exploration of Regulus's bedroom and the discovery of his old sketchbook had set off a chain of events that had dominated the afternoon. Harry grew furious when Snape refused to budge or even speak on the topic of the confiscated sketchbook, and ended up loudly raging at the stoic professor for several minutes. Surprisingly enough, Snape had responded with utter silence, not even resorting to the cool insults that Draco had often heard him use with Gryffindors when they crossed the line at school. Finally, the dark-haired teen stormed off to his bedroom, where he stayed for the rest of the day, not even coming down for dinner.

Meanwhile, Tonks made a hasty exit before Harry's outburst even began, and Lupin, who like Snape had remained absolutely silent during the teen's tantrum, slipped out a little while after Harry shut himself into his room. The werewolf still hadn't returned.

Thus, Draco had spent most of the afternoon and evening in the company of only his Potions professor, who was just as taciturn as normal. Not long after Harry's disappearance into his room, the professor stalked off to the Black family library. When Draco poked his head in a few minutes later, Snape simply gestured to a nearby armchair, where there was already a book waiting for him, entitled _Occlumency, the Art of the Protected Mind: An Introduction_.

Draco knew that Snape had chosen the book for him, but despite the kind gesture, he was unable to focus on the words, which seemed to blur under his gaze. The total stillness of the house allowed the blond to dwell obsessively on the information that Potter had revealed about his father's role in the horrifying events of his second year, which Draco still remembered well.

However, Draco didn't work up the courage to ask his professor about Potter's allegation until dinner.

 _Draco waited until his professor was done with his fried eggs and toast. When the man put down his fork, looking at him expectantly, he asked, as calmly as he could manage, "Was what Potter said about my father giving the Weaselette that cursed diary true?"_

 _Snape sighed and looked resolutely at the blond teen. Finally, he replied, "I think you already know the answer to that question, don't you, Draco?"_

" _Yes, sir…" Draco mumbled in return. "I just…"_

" _Yes?"_

 _Draco took a deep breath and looked up again to catch his professor's eye. "Well, it's frustrating. I always thought he was such a good father, but lately I haven't been able to stop thinking about all the choices he's made without seeming to take me into consideration at all."_

 _Snape's response was firm. "Draco, I can't tell you whether Lucius is a good father or not. I think in times of war… parents often have to make very hard decisions. What I can tell you is that we should remember that people's choices, particularly in difficult times, reflect their true character much more accurately than their words do. According to that same principle, we must monitor our own decisions very carefully. The worst mistake you could make is to think that your father's choices will define_ your _future."_

 _Draco nodded, "Yes, sir."_

" _You know that's why I brought you here, don't you? From this point forward, I expect you to make each and every decision with your eyes wide open." Snape stood and gathered the empty dinner plates and took them to the sink, then turned. "And if it helps at all, Draco, I don't think your father really knew the implications of what he was doing when he gave Miss Weasley that book. But let that be a reminder that the decisions that we jump into in a moment of emotion are sometimes the ones that end up being the most harmful to others, and often, to ourselves. I hope it's a lesson that serves you well."_

Draco was still weighing Snape's advice in his mind, hours later. He had always idolized his father, but this summer had been eye opening, to say the least. Just as Draco was returning once more to his reflections on how badly his father had failed him and his mother, however, his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden creak of a footstep on the wooden floor. Startled, he looked to the kitchen's doorway to find Harry standing there, looking just as surprised to see him.

"Malfoy," Harry nodded curtly. "What are you still doing up?"

"Oh, were you going to kick me out now, Potter?" Draco snapped, rising rapidly from his chair. "I'll just be going then, wouldn't want to disturb _your highness_ …"

The dark-haired teen rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Malfoy, finish your bloody tea. I just wanted to fix myself something to eat." With that, Harry turned resolutely away from the blond and set about to opening a tin of beans, which he then dumped into a skillet on the stove.

When the beans were warm and Harry had settled into a chair halfway down the table and started to eat, Draco figured it was about time someone tried to extend at least the semblance of an olive branch. "I didn't know about my father's involvement in the Chamber of Secrets being reopened until you told me today, Potter." He sighed and then continued, "I agree that it was an absolutely vile thing he did, and very foolish."

Harry had just put a large forkful of beans into his mouth and for a moment, he looked like he might choke. Finally, he swallowed and asked incredulously, "You think it was _foolish_? Ginny almost died and your father was _foolish_? Do you really think that covers it?" he spat.

"Potter, if you would learn to listen more _closely_ , you would have also heard me call his actions _vile_. Forgive me if I'm not exactly jumping up and down in my attempts to insult my own father, won't you?"

"Oh, don't worry about it, Malfoy, I think the _Prophet_ 's got it all sorted for you," Harry retorted viciously. "There have been plenty of articles about precious _Lucius_ since he got arrested, haven't there?"

"Just shut up about my father, Potter," Draco hissed in response. "I get it, you're upset about your godfather and all that, but you're not the only one in the world with problems, you know, just in case you haven't noticed."

By this point Harry's makeshift meal was utterly forgotten and the teen rose quickly from his chair, whipping out his wand and pointing it at Draco with a trembling hand. "Don't _ever_ talk to me about Sirius," he whispered fervently.

Draco knew he was stuck; there was no way he would be able to get out his own wand before Harry threw a curse, if he decided to do so. He raised a hand in the air as a sign of appeasement and after a long, tense moment, Harry sat slowly back down and tucked away his wand.

"Look, Potter, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just trying to say, I know that with the Dark Lord back around things are going to shit for everyone, aren't they?" Draco took a deep breath; Harry was silent across the table and was glaring at his plate with those blazing green eyes. "Since my father got arrested, the Dark Lord's been out for Malfoy blood. The manor's turned into the Death Eaters' favorite stomping ground, the Dark Lord wants me to take the mark before I even turn seventeen, and you seriously have no _fucking_ idea of what I'm being asked to do." Draco dropped his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair. "This hasn't exactly been my idea of a picnic either, Potter," he concluded shakily.

There was a pregnant pause after Draco's impromptu little speech, but finally, Harry replied, "Alright, Malfoy, sorry, I get it." He absentmindedly shadowed Draco's earlier movements, shoving a hand through his own perpetually messy locks. "I've been face to face with a pissed off Voldemort more than once," Harry said, giving the other boy a tight smile that didn't make it to his eyes. "I wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even a total prick like you."

"Yeah, well thanks," Draco replied brusquely, trying to pull his emotions back together after his unplanned emotional outpouring in front of his long-time rival. "That's why I'm just relieved to be here, away from _him_ ," he muttered, before draining the last of his tea in one swallow and standing. "Anyway, I'll leave you to it," he gestured towards Harry's plate and headed for the door.

Harry's voice stopped him before he could leave the room. "Malfoy?"

"Yeah?" he answered without turning around.

"Truce?" he heard the teen say.

Draco still didn't turn. After a moment he responded, "Sure, Potter. Truce," and then he walked slowly away towards the stairs. The tea had been worthless, he reflected, absurdly. He was leaving the kitchen with his head as full of thoughts as it had been when he had entered it.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

The next morning Harry awoke early, roused by an insistent tapping noise. He stirred from sleep, stretching his tight muscles, and shoved his glasses onto his face before he realized that the sound wasn't an odd continuation of the long nightmare he had been stuck in; it was someone knocking at the door.

"Yes?" he finally groaned.

The door cracked open and Malfoy's blond head peeked in. At Draco's quirked eyebrow and slight smirk upon seeing Harry's state of undress, the dark-haired teen felt himself flush and he jerked up the blanket to cover himself more. It had almost seemed like the other teen had been checking him out, Harry thought. But then he mused that it was more likely that Draco had been trying to hold back some rude joke about Harry's sloppiness in light of their newfound truce.

"Well, what is it?" Harry finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Good morning to you too, Potter," Draco quipped, now inspecting perfectly trimmed fingernails. The blond certainly didn't look like he had only slept a few hours the night before, Harry observed; his pale face was fresh and his gray eyes clear and bright.

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed ironically, "Good morning, Malfoy… Now, what did you want?"

"Snape says we've got a Potions lesson starting in half an hour and I thought you might want a bite to eat first," Draco explained nonchalantly. "But," he shrugged, turning to leave the room, "If you're not hungry, feel free to sleep a little longer…"

A ravenous growl from Harry's midsection betrayed him and he scowled. "No, Malfoy, I am – er, thanks."

His awkward expression of gratitude was met only by a soft click as the bedroom door closed, and Harry rolled out of bed and tugged on Muggle jeans and a t-shirt. He was utterly confused by the blond Slytherin's behavior. He had seemed so _meek_ towards Dumbledore and Snape, not at all his normal cocky self, and had appeared genuinely upset the night before when he was talking about Voldemort taking over Malfoy Manor. Could Draco really have been telling Dumbledore the truth when he said he didn't want to be Death Eater? That he was interested in the Order, even? Harry shook his head dubiously. Malfoy may be acting a bit better than the norm, but it would take more than that to convince Harry that he wasn't just trying to save his own skin.

With that thought firm in his mind, Harry scooped up his wand and headed downstairs to rustle up some breakfast. He would definitely need something on his stomach if he had to tolerate lessons with Snape, of all people.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Severus slowly retracted the silver stirring rod from the simmering potion, and levitated the cauldron off the flame to the table to cool. The Hogwarts hospital wing always needed a steady stock of Dreamless Sleep Potion, so it was one of the potions he made a point of brewing over the summer. Next, he strode over to the small pewter cauldron, where his latest batch of Wolfsbane potion was bubbling nicely. He had been working on it for three days now; it wasn't an easy potion by any means, or a quick one, but he enjoyed the challenge, and he knew it would help Remus significantly as he prepared for the next full moon the following week.

The Potions Master skillfully chopped the next set of herbs for the Wolfsbane and allowed his mind to wander, as it so often did when he brewed potions he was familiar with. He was feeling particularly cheerful this morning due to the pleasant surprise of finding Draco and Harry deep in conversation late the night before. Of course he couldn't reveal his presence, since neither of the teens should know of his personal investment in their relationship, but he had clearly heard his son offer Draco a truce, and his godson accept.

For a long time, but particularly since the Dark Lord's rise at the end of the boys' fourth year, Severus had hoped the two might become friends one day. He recognized that originally, it had been primarily for Draco's sake. From the moment he had felt the ugly tattoo on his arm begin to burn again, he was sure Lucius would return to their Lord's side once he returned, and he also knew that Draco would eventually be ready to make his bid for escape. And these days, you couldn't be on the side of the Light without some form of a relationship with Harry Potter.

However, after watching Harry even more carefully since the Dark Lord's rise, Snape became certain that he, too, would benefit from getting to know the blond Slytherin. Granger and Weasley had proven themselves loyal friends – for the most part; Weasley still struggled sometimes – but his son had been too insulated in Gryffindor Tower. He could see it easily after starting their Occlumency lessons. Some of it was merely the nature of his youth, but Harry still saw the world in black and white, and Severus was determined that he should learn the complexity of _gray_ before it was too late. And, although it was dreadfully selfish, he thought that perhaps learning to view one Slytherin differently might help Harry eventually see Severus himself in a new light, once it was time to tell him the truth…

Draco and Harry's entrance into his makeshift potions lab interrupted the uncomfortably wishful course of thought. Good. Since he had begun pondering the possibility of actually forming a meaningful part of his son's life for the first time since that fateful Halloween, he had frequently felt out of his element. But now, more than ever, he needed to be on his toes: both teens standing in front of him depended on it.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," he said silkily, slowly pouring the herbs he had just finished shredding into the gurgling Wolfsbane potion before turning to face them.

"Good morning, sir," Draco intoned quietly. Harry remained silent and met his professor's eyes with a defiant scowl, as if daring him to comment. Severus merely arched an eyebrow; he wouldn't dignify his son's immaturity with a response. Since they weren't at Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place wasn't currently crawling with Order members, there was no audience gauging his every move, and he didn't have to incessantly goad the boy as he normally did.

"Today, you will have two tasks," he explained. "First, you will help with some preparations for a Wolfsbane potion." He paused and caught Draco's eye when he heard the blond suck in his breath, and then nodded minutely in approval when the teen's fists slowly unclenched and he let out a shaky breath. "Second," he continued, "you will brew a batch of Dreamless Sleep Potion."

Once both teens nodded their understanding, Snape motioned for them to take a seat and began his lecture, slipping easily into his teacher mode. "Wolfsbane is a rather complex brew, and as such, it requires several ingredients that must be prepared perfectly in order for the potion to be effective and not bring any harm to the werewolf who consumes it." At this point he noticed Harry lean forward slightly, as if he were paying closer attention. Draco still looked tense. "The principal component of the potion, aconite, which is also known as monkshood or wolfsbane, is incredibly poisonous on its own. I have already handled that ingredient, since it must be introduced from the beginning of the brewing process. You will be preparing rye grains, mistletoe berries, and rowan root."

With a wave of his wand, Severus floated the ingredient canisters to the thick wooden table he had set for the boys' use. "Mr. Potter," he said, gesturing to the pearly white mistletoe berries. "Berries of different kinds are commonly used in potions, as you surely will have observed over the past several years. What are some of the manners of preparation that you have learned for berries?"

Harry hesitated momentarily before saying, "Well, sometimes they're used whole just as they are – _sir_ ," he added hastily, albeit with a slightly insolent tone. "And I've also seen them be peeled, crushed, and sliced." Upon finishing his response, he glared boldly at his professor, as if expecting an insult.

Instead, Severus merely responded, "Yes, those are all frequent methods of preparation for assorted varieties of berries. Both the type of berry and the manner in which they are used is important for potions. For Wolfsbane, we will be pressing the mistletoe berries in order to isolate their juice." He matched Harry's fierce gaze with his own calm one before continuing. "Unlike berries, grains are not employed in many potions, but they are incredibly useful as a calming agent."

He turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, what would be your educated guess of how grains are most frequently prepared for use in potions?"

The blond teen responded confidently, "Grains are usually crushed, sir, to release their essence."

"Correct," Severus affirmed. "Narcissa has taught you well," he acknowledged. "Now, Mr. Potter, you can start by juicing the berries while you, Mr. Malfoy, press the rye. Once you've finished, you can begin slicing the rowan root."

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Draco watched with a critical eye as Harry slowly stirred the colorful Dreamless Sleep Potion, counting under his breath as he went. Since Snape had put them to work together on only one cauldron, he had allowed Harry to take the lead, because he needed more practice with potions than Draco did. Harry was a decent brewer, and he did much better, Draco noticed, when he wasn't distracted by his Gryff buddies or constant taunts from his own professor. Indeed, Draco quite preferred the more relaxed character of Snape far from Hogwarts; the Potions Master had given them space to work on their own while he completed the next steps of the Wolfsbane Potion.

After seven motions of the stirring rod, Harry carefully removed it and then lifted the cauldron from the flame. He and Draco both peered in to see the liquid inside: it was a pale purple, not the rich, deep lavender that the book described. Where had they messed up?

Suddenly, Snape cleared his throat directly behind them and Draco chucked inwardly as they both jumped. "It would appear that you work well as a brewing team, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," he said, keeping his voice free of inflection. "The color will gradually become more intense as it cools. Dreamless Sleep needs to rest for a while before it is of use. We can have lunch in the meanwhile."

Draco nodded and then started closing the ingredient canisters that they had been using and motioned to Harry to follow suit. "C'mon, if we clean up real quick now we won't have as much to do after," he muttered, and saw Snape's curt nod of approval.

Within moments, the lab was back in order and the two teens tumbled down the stairs towards the kitchen with their professor trailing behind. Draco was first to enter the room and he was mildly surprised to see that the werewolf had returned at some point during their potions lesson and had fixed them sandwiches.

When the man offered him a plate, Draco dutifully stated, "Thank you, Professor Lupin," before taking it and starting to eat.

Meanwhile, Harry seemed slightly embarrassed to see Lupin, probably due to his behavior the day before. "Yeah, thanks Remus, you didn't have to…"

"It was no problem Harry, Draco – and Draco, _do_ call me Remus," he said with a firm look at the blond teen. "And anyway, don't thank me too much. You'll need your strength for this afternoon," he added with a light chuckle, passing a plate over to Snape as well.

"Thank you, Remus," the man said quietly. "We've been working on your Wolfsbane; I'll have the first serving ready for you by dinner tonight."

Remus bowed his head, now quite serious. "It is much appreciated, Severus."

After the flurry of vaguely uncomfortable expressions of gratitude, the kitchen went quiet as all four men dug into their ham and cheese sandwiches. Once they were done, Lupin looked around at everyone with a rather wide smile. In turn, Snape appeared rather sober.

"Well," Lupin said cheerfully, flicking his wand at the plates so they stacked themselves neatly beside the sink. "You've had your Potions tutorial for the day, and now, Professor Snape has agreed that a different sort of lesson may be helpful for you in the future." He clapped his hands and Draco felt apprehension building in his stomach. Harry also looked bemused.

Finally, Lupin revealed, "Physical defense." He paused, beaming brilliantly. "After all, you never know when you're going to lose control of your wand, do you?"

Draco suddenly felt quite queasy. Was it just his imagination, or did the werewolf's canines seem to be a bit sharper than they were yesterday?

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry walked slowly up the stairs to the highest level of the house. He was exhausted after Remus had put him and Draco through the paces, teaching them what he called "basic attack moves," and a large roast dinner followed by two helpings of treacle tart had only made him sleepier.

Snape had been quiet and distant all day, which meant Harry had successfully managed to avoid entering any fresh confrontations with the man. He was still insistent that he had every right to see Regulus's old sketchbook, but he didn't always need Hermione around to tell him when his approach wasn't working. Clearly, shouting wouldn't get him anywhere, as evidenced the night before. So Harry would keep an eye out for his chance to either change the man's mind somehow or snag the book in secret.

Meanwhile, Draco had continued in his odd overtures of courtesy bordering on friendship. Harry was baffled by this new version of the teen. True enough: the blond wizard's lazy smirk was about the same as it had always been, and Harry had still heard tones of sarcasm lacing his voice throughout the day. However, the air of haughtiness that so characterized Draco and his parents in Harry's mind was missing, and had been replaced by an intriguing mix of gratitude and anxiety. If he wasn't looking at Snape as if to solicit the man's approval, he was nervously rubbing his left arm or obsessively running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. And Harry couldn't forget how Draco had chosen to wake him early enough to get breakfast that morning and had stepped back to let him brew the Dreamless Sleep Potion rather than using the opportunity to show off his own skills.

Despite the fact that Draco had turned out to be vaguely pleasant classmate that day, however, Harry was ready to be alone for a while, and Sirius's old bedroom seemed like just the spot. He pushed open the door and immediately went to stretch out on his godfather's old bed, massaging his sore arm muscles and smiling around at the posters and photos that covered the walls. Sirius grinned back at him from the picture pasted by the bed, his radiant face framed by long black locks. Just beside him, with an arm wrapped firmly around the other boy's shoulders, was a teenage James Potter, whose face was covered with a wide smile and topped with sloppy hair so like Harry's own.

As Harry studied their happy expressions, his heart ached. He missed Sirius so much, more than he had ever missed his father even, since he was never given the chance to know James the way he should have. His parents were a happy idea, but that's all they could ever be; they had been dead all his life. But Sirius – Sirius had been _real_ in a way that his parents never had been; he had made jokes with him and ruffled his hair and Flooed him at Hogwarts and sent him letters… Maybe he wasn't the most mature authority figure Harry had ever met, but he had been the best godfather he ever could have asked for.

And now, he was gone.

Every time Harry thought about it, the bottom dropped out of his stomach. He knew there were so many adults that loved him, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Remus and Hagrid and Dumbledore, even, but Sirius had been completely _his_ for a few short years. It was an experience that Harry had never hoped to have, and now could never dream of enjoying again.

Harry felt tears welling up in his eyes at the painful thought, but when he was disturbed by a soft knock at the door for the second time that day, he dashed them away and growled, "What do you want, Malfoy?"

Just like in the morning, the door cracked open, but this time it wasn't Draco; it was Snape. Harry scrambled to sit up and knew his face had twisted into a scowl as he stared bleakly at his hated professor. "Yes, _sir_?"

Yet again, the man responded to Harry's insolence with silence, instead just arching a thick brow and stepping into the room. Harry noted with a flash of vindictive pleasure that Snape seemed to be making quite an effort to restrain himself from studying the walls of Sirius's old room. After just a moment, he reached into a deep pocket of his robes and pulled out a thin book and a glass vial filled with purple potion, then handed both to Harry.

The dark-haired teen had only just glanced at the book's title – it was an introduction to Occlumency – when Snape broke his silence.

"I strongly believe that it is of incredible importance that you develop some level of proficiency in Occlumency, Mr. Potter." Snape paused, gazing firmly at Harry. "However, I have no desire to repeat the rather disastrous mood of our Occlumency lessons over the past year." He hesitated, then continued, "I recognize that I likely had some role in your struggle with the skill; it can be a sensitive subject to teach. However, it is of my opinion that learning some of the theoretical background will help you be more prepared to continue our lessons." Seeing Harry's expression of protest, Snape raised a hand and added, "This is _not_ a choice, Mr. Potter. Dumbledore has informed me that this is an urgent matter in which I have as little a choice as you do. Therefore, over the coming week, I expect you to read this book in its entirety. In a few days, we will add Occlumency to our daily lessons; Mr. Malfoy will also be in attendance."

Snape glowered at Harry with a curved brow until the teen finally nodded sullenly.

After another pregnant pause, he gestured to the glass vial of purple potion. "The Dreamless Sleep you and Mr. Malfoy brewed earlier today. It can be incredibly addictive, and Occlumency is a much healthier way of managing them, but two drops per night will eliminate your nightmares until you gain a better grasp of Occlumency." Snape's eyes drifted upwards, to the ceiling, and he added softly, "You must rest well in order to heal, Mr. Potter."

Before Harry could respond, the man had turned on his heel and slipped out of the room with only a quiet "Good night," followed by the faint click of the bedroom door closing behind him.

Harry clutched the book and potion vial to his chest and stared at the door in amazement. Who was this man and what had he done with Professor Snape?

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's note: Guys! Here it is, at last! I wrote the first scene days ago but most of the rest has been written over the past couple of days. I got dragged down into my doctoral reading, but I've finished three more (rather long) novels!**

 **I'm hoping to get the next update out sooner than this one, promise! For now, let me know what you think please! Just drop me a little **REVIEW**! What do you think about my characterization, Harry and Draco's evolving relationship, lessons, etc.?**


	5. OWLs, Werewolves, and Brooms, oh my!

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 5: OWLs, Werewolves, and Brooms, oh my!**

 **Post date: 6/23/16**

Harry leaned back in the armchair, closing his eyes and taking slow, deep breaths. He tried to clear his mind as he had heard Hermione tell him so many times. He did _not_ want to have Occlumency lessons with Snape again, but after the disastrous events only a few months ago, even he had to admit that Dumbledore was right. He _had_ to learn how to shield his mind so that Voldemort could never take advantage of him again, and he _wanted_ to be better prepared for Snape's probing about than he had been all the year before.

Thanks to the Dreamless Sleep Potion, Harry had been able to get much more restful sleep in the last few days than he had for several months, which made it easier to concentrate. Even the long Potions lessons with Snape and physical defense classes with Remus were helping, since they wore him out and thus made him feel more relaxed in general. Still, trying to empty his brain seemed futile; he felt like he was just shouting "Nothing, nothing, nothing!" in his head and surely, that wasn't right, was it?

Harry's eyes snapped open when he heard a creak in the wooden floor, and his gaze immediately landed on Draco, who was standing in the library's doorway studying him with a bemused smirk.

"What exactly are you doing, Potter?" the blond drawled.

"Occlumency practice," Harry snapped, more irritated at his continued failure in the skill than at the other teen. "We're supposed to be able to clear our minds, aren't we?" He paused and then added, "Although maybe that's not such a struggle for some of us…"

Draco responded with an exaggerated eye roll and retorted, "Careful, Potter, Weasley won't be pleased if he hears you're talking about him behind his back. Besides, you're not exactly demonstrating high intellect yourself with ideas like that. Clear your mind? That's the bloody dumbest thing I've ever heard. How in Merlin's name are you supposed to _do_ that?"

Harry gaped, shocked that Draco had literally just voiced exactly his own opinion on the matter, almost word for word. But Draco was already continuing, "Try _filling_ your mind instead, Potter. There's a sentence or two on it at the end of Chapter 5 of the introductory text that Snape gave us, but it's honestly ridiculous that they don't go more in depth. Anyway, it's only logical that the best defense is an active one, not just the passive bollocks of clearing your mind out. It's _your_ mind; you can envision it however you want. Just don't muck about with a little brick wall and call it a day, Potter, or I'll have given you more credit than you deserve."

The dark-haired teen felt his jaw drop a little further: Malfoy was a bloody genius – not that Harry would ever admit it. But again, the blond didn't allow much time for reflection; he gestured to the other teen and turned back to the hall, calling "Come on then, Potter, I only came to get you because we've received some post in the Floo."

Harry trailed after the blond towards the kitchen. Who would write them both, and know to send the letter to Grimmauld? Besides Snape, Lupin, and Tonks, who were all around every day, only Dumbledore knew that they were both in the old Black home. Harry wasn't sure even Ron and Hermione had found out yet, since there was no owl post allowed at Grimmauld. So it had to be Dumbledore… But what would he want? Wait… Was it time already? Harry picked up the pace and skidded past Draco into the kitchen. He saw two thick envelopes, one with his name and one with Draco's. Suddenly, his heart seemed to be pounding in his throat. It could only be their OWL results.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Severus watched with a carefully neutral expression as both Harry and Draco tore into the thick envelopes. Of course, he already knew the boys' results, but he was nonetheless interested to see their reactions. Two sets of eyes raked quickly over the score pages; Draco's cheeks turned a faint pink and Severus knew he was pleased. Meanwhile, Harry's jaw tightened and his green eyes turned stony, so Snape knew he had seen his potions score, an Exceeds Expectations.

Remus examined Harry's face and asked in a cautiously nonchalant tone, "How'd you do, Harry?"

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the paper in his hands as he gloomily responded, "Well enough, I suppose, but I guess I can say good-bye to becoming an Auror, since _Professor_ Snape only takes Outstandings in his NEWT level courses."

The aforementioned professor cleared his throat and queried dryly, as if he were rather bored, "Have you both reviewed _all_ of your materials, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter?"

Immediately, Draco reached into his envelope and drew out a sheaf of other papers, which he started to look through.

After sending an ugly glower in Snape's direction, Harry followed Draco's example and shook out the rest of the papers from his own envelope, and in so doing caught a sparkling badge that was etched with crossed broomsticks.

Snape bit back a small smile and was gratified when Remus clapped the boy heartily on the back and declared, "You've been made Quidditch captain, Harry! Your father would be proud," he added, shooting Snape a tiny wink. Severus frowned in return; the man should be more careful.

Harry's face lit up at once as he examined the red and gold brooch, and he flushed, mumbling, "I never thought it would be me… I thought it'd be Katie Bell for sure…"

Draco interrupted his musings with a soft, "Congrats, Potter," though Severus thought the effect was somewhat ruined when the boy then continued sarcastically, "Slytherin will have a much better chance with _you_ leading Gryffindor.

Harry's head jerked up and his eyes narrowed as he glared at the blond teen, but he only muttered, "Thanks, Malfoy; hold your breath and see, why don't you?" The retort was milder than Severus would have expected, and he didn't see the normal level of venom in the green eyes, either.

Draco's smirk in response was rather mild as well, and then, to Snape's continued surprise, the blond held out one page from the stack of papers that had been in his envelope, waving it at the dark-haired teen. "I don't suppose you saw this yet," he said lightly as Harry gingerly took it from the blond's outstretched hand.

Snape watched as Harry skimmed the memorandum. Dumbledore had been keen on the idea from the start, which was a relief since Snape had first needed to talk about it several times in a very roundabout way in the staffroom so as to make McGonagall think it was her own idea.

"What is it, Harry?" Lupin prompted.

Harry's voice trembled. "It's a notice from Headmaster Dumbledore. He says that due to the chaotic events of last year, all incoming sixth years have the right to petition for an appeal for any exam grade if they contact the course's professor by the start of the school year and the professor approves their petition to retake the exam."

After a long pause, the dark-haired teen looked up towards his Potions professor. "Is this why you're giving me Potions lessons… sir? Did Dumbledore ask you to…?"

Severus felt the force of a long-term habit curl his mouth into a sneer. "When it comes to my classes, Mr. Potter, I do favors for no one, not even the Headmaster _or_ the famous Boy-Who-Lived. Prove to me that you've earned the right, and I will _consider_ it." With that, he abruptly turned from the table and strode silently from the room. He could feel three pairs of eyes following him all the way to the stairs.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

After Snape's sudden departure, Draco remained quiet, feigning intense interest in the sixth-year book list that had been included in the post with the OWLs results. In reality, he was contemplating Harry's apparent confidence in his plan to become an Auror after school. It wasn't all that surprising, really, he thought. But it prompted bitter reflections about what Draco's own future held.

Since the end of his fourth year, his father had spoken little on the subject; to him, it was clear that since the Dark Lord's rise, Draco's future would be there, along with Lucius's own. And if he was bored, the theory was that he could always mess about in the Ministry, as Lucius did. It wasn't as if he really needed to _work_ , what with his inheritance. But would he even be receiving an inheritance anymore, once his father learned that he had decided to defect to the Order?

Before Draco could come closer to any sort of conclusion, however, Remus spoke, interrupting the teen's insecure thoughts. "Harry, Draco, I've been meaning to speak to you; perhaps now is the time…" the man said gently, gesturing that they should take a seat at the table.

"What is it, Remus?" Harry asked, sitting down a few feet away from where Draco had pulled out a chair for himself.

Draco studied Lupin as the man seemed to weigh his words; he looked tired, with heavy bags under his eyes and deep lines creasing his forehead. He was also clenching and unclenching his left hand into his right, which made him appear rather anxious.

"Well," Lupin finally said, his golden eyes seemingly boring a hole into the ground, "You both know I am a werewolf." Draco felt his heart start to beat a little faster but he endeavored to keep his expression calm. He was relieved to have done so when Remus shifted his gaze to focus on the blond teen as he continued. "Draco, since you told me that you have already made the acquaintance of one Fenrir Greyback, you will have realized that Voldemort rather enjoys recruiting werewolves to his ranks."

Draco shuddered and nodded his agreement, but Harry, evidently surprised, hissed "He _what_?"

Remus reached out a hand and touched the teen's shoulder. "Yes, Harry. It is a tactic he used in the last war as well. Werewolves, along with many other magical creatures, are quite vulnerable to his pressures since we are so hated within regular wizarding society."

Harry sputtered, "But – surely they know that to him they're just disposable weapons – it's not as if _Voldemort_ actually _cares_ …"

Remus nodded gravely. "Yes, Harry, but you must realize that Voldemort makes the werewolves many promises that wizards at large are unwilling to even consider. It makes for a very tempting offer, especially since many, unlike myself, have lived their entire lives on the fringes of society in packs of their own kind. They have no ties to regular wizards, and they don't mind seeing them die, or even causing their death, if they feel it can lead to change in their own life."

Harry already looked deeply disturbed, but Draco felt drawn to contribute his own experiences as further proof of the validity of Lupin's declaration. "It's true, Potter," he said quietly. "Greyback's one of the Dark Lord's followers, and the Dark Lord rewards him for his work by – by setting aside special _gifts_ for him for the full moon, if you catch my drift," he spat. He could feel his hands trembling as he remembered the small Muggle girl that had been dragged down into the dungeons beneath Malfoy Manor, screaming, the month before.

Draco was sure that Lupin's sharp eyes didn't miss his reaction, but the man staidly plowed forward, saying quietly, "Thank you, Draco, for verifying the Order's speculations. So, as you can both imagine, it is of upmost interest to our side that any neutral werewolves not be compromised and turned to the Dark Lord's service." He hesitated, then caught Draco's eye and added, "This is top-secret Order business, Draco, Harry."

The blond teen let out a shaky breath and replied, "I swear that the secret is safe with me, Professor Lupin," meeting the man's firm gaze. He heard Harry's fervent assent right after his own.

"Well, since Professor Snape allowed you both to assist with the last stages of the Wolfsbane Potion, you'll know that the Full Moon fast approaches." Draco felt himself tense again, despite himself, but Lupin ignored it, speaking with practiced calm. "Tomorrow is the first night, but I will be far from Grimmauld." His voice took on an even grimmer tone and he explained, "I will be running with a London pack that Greyback has been courting."

Draco stared at the graying man with new admiration and found that he was at a complete loss for words; beside him, it seemed that Harry was experiencing the same.

After a moment, Remus continued, "I thought you both deserved to know and I figured now was as good a time as any, since I'll be off later tonight and will be gone for the next few days. But don't worry about me. After all, I will be quite in my element," he said, with a small chuckle. "And perhaps you'll enjoy my absence anyway, since Tonks will be covering your lesson tomorrow, and I think she has an interesting idea or two up her sleeve…"

Draco's awe at the werewolf he had barely gotten to know doubled. The man might _die_ facing Greyback, and he was still cracking his little jokes as if all were right with the world. Was this what it was to be a Gryffindor? He shook his head to himself. Lupin may have gotten accustomed to the danger, but Draco didn't know how he ever would.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Several hours later, Harry lay in his bed with his eyes screwed shut, breathing deeply, but he was not asleep. He was trying to focus on _filling_ his mind as Draco had suggested, but although it seemed much more tangible than _clearing_ it, it was still frustratingly out of his mental reach. The harder he tried to concentrate on just his mind, the more his surroundings stood out to him. The house creaked and groaned around him, absurdly louder since Remus's departure, rather than quieter.

 _He just couldn't bloody get his mind in order_. All he had to go on, after all, was Draco's sarcastic quip about not just throwing up a "brick wall" and thinking he was set. Perhaps it was due to that comment that all Harry could think about was walls.

Creaking stained walls that were the frame of Grimmauld Place that were trapping him in with his memories of Sirius. Thin walls that were actually shelves that were holding glass balls that were actually prophecies. Green leafy walls that were actually hedges that were actually a maze that was really all just a ruse to get Harry to Voldemort. Slimy stone walls that were actually part of tunnels under Hogwarts that were leading to a basilisk. Grimy wooden walls that seemed to close in around him that were actually the insides of a cupboard under the stairs.

The shelves, the hedges, the stone, the bloody cupboard, they all seemed to be growing and growing in his mind, and yes, his mind was being filled indeed but surely this wasn't right if he wasn't able to control it and he just knew somehow that _this_ wasn't how it was supposed to work and he stared at the clean stone wall that had appeared in front of him rather suddenly and he felt he should inspect it, so he walked its length and wished that the terrible walls of his past would disappear and when he reached the corner he turned back, still wishing, and when he felt he should, he turned again, still wishing, but then there was a door and he knew at once that it was _his_ door and he opened it and it sucked all the terrible walls in and then the door slammed shut and suddenly he stood still, facing the door, and oddly, he felt quite calm. And he felt that he should turn again and so he did, and he was standing in his mind and yet he was in Hogwarts _and was this the seventh floor corridor; was that the Room of Requirement?_

And then he heard a voice calling to him faintly, as if someone were around the corner trying to get his attention for some reason. _Potter, wake up, Harry, come on! Harry!_

When he fixated on the voice, Harry felt a hooking-and-jerking sensation, almost as if he had just touched a Portkey and was being sucked into its travel, and then he was in his room at Grimmauld Place again, quite suddenly. It was dark, and he was all wet for some reason – was that sweat? – and someone was shaking him violently – or was that him shaking? – and he squinted, because _where_ had his glasses gone, and he realized it was Draco, and Draco had him by the shoulders and was shaking him with all his might. The blond was in quite a state, Harry saw; he listened and realized that the voice he had heard in the Hogwarts hall was Draco's, and there he was, still moaning furiously, "Harry, wake up, c'mon Potter, what the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

The blond didn't seem to realize that Harry's eyes had opened and that he was quite awake thank you very much and that actually the Slytherin teen was rather uncomfortably on top of him, so after a fairly muddled moment, Harry finally gasped, "Malfoy, I'm awake, now will you get the fuck off me?"

Draco started and scrambled to his feet, and he was all huge grey eyes and pale cheeks and pink lips and wringing hands and honestly, he appeared incredibly surprised and small and not a little scared. Harry squinted at him, just standing there with that odd expression on his face, and thought the blond teen looked rather vulnerable and that he had never seen his classmate quite like this. But before he could think about it too much, the pale face contorted and OUCH, Draco had punched him, quite hard, in the arm.

"What the bloody hell, Malfoy?" Harry snarled, massaging his shoulder and still straining his eyes to keep the other wizard in sight.

"I could say much the same to you, Potter," Draco retorted haughtily, stooping to the floor to pick up Harry's glasses and throwing them onto the teen's chest. "I was just headed to the kitchen and heard a fuss in here, and I come in and you're bloody well screaming your damn head off," he hissed vehemently, staring determinedly at the ceiling, apparently to avoid meeting Harry's eyes. "What in the name of Merlin were you _doing_?"

At this, Harry couldn't help himself as he felt a goofy grin take over his expression. "I was _filling my mind_ , Malfoy." He felt like a giddy first year or something and he didn't know why he was telling Malfoy this of all people; maybe it was because of the truce, or because the blond had pretty much spilled his life story the other night, or just because they were both stuck in this bloody house that reminded him so much of _Sirius_ , or simply because he was so damn excited, but he plowed onward, "It worked; it actually _worked_ … I don't know how I even managed it, but I tried filling my mind instead of clearing it and I made my mind look like bloody Hogwarts!"

Malfoy didn't appear to feel nearly as excited about the victory as Harry did. Instead, he still appeared quite disgruntled, but he sighed with exaggerated force and slowly clapped his hands a couple times. "Congratulations, Potter," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "Next time you go and rearrange your entire psyche, try doing it with someone around so you don't get lost in there, alright? Now go to sleep." And with that, he sloped lazily towards the door.

Draco was already halfway out the door when a thought suddenly occurred to Harry and he called after the blond. "Malfoy?" The other teen paused, and Harry knew he was listening. "What did _you_ fill _your_ mind with?"

The blond teen's shoulders tensed and for a long moment, Harry didn't think he would answer. Finally, he responded quietly, "Pools. Pools of water. Good night, Potter." And with the soft click of the door closing behind him, he had gone.

Once again, Harry leaned back, allowing his body to sink into the mattress. His arms and legs and head felt incredibly heavy and he was suddenly overwhelmed with an intense weariness. It showed how much he had learned about Draco that he wasn't even surprised that the teen had already felt the need to rearrange his own mind, before ever even having a lesson with Snape. What he wondered now was: how long had Harry been underestimating the Slytherin, and what other secrets had he been keeping?

 **x.T.a.T.x**

The next day, Draco felt extraordinarily grumpy. Harry hadn't quit shooting him odd looks since breakfast, and he couldn't help regretting that he had told the other boy about his mental defense. Of course Potter didn't realize _why_ Draco used pools. No one needed to know that it was because he was unwilling to employ any type of _walls_ since Snape had so forcefully destroyed the mental gates inspired by those surrounding Malfoy Manor, but _still_. It wouldn't do to keep telling the other teen so many secrets. He didn't know why he constantly felt the urge to open up to _Potter_ of all people, anyway. Weren't they supposed to be mortal enemies? Damn Dark Lord, putting things into perspective…

It didn't help _at all_ that Snape had gotten in on the meaningful looks gig when they had made a Cooling Cream in their Potions lesson that morning. It wasn't as if he even had a rash or anything, so _why_ had Snape given them each a portion and stared so fixedly at Draco's left arm? Why couldn't Harry and Snape both just mind their own damn business?

And now, Tonks was here, in all her pink-haired glory, bouncing about like a bloody lunatic and yammering on about Quidditch of all things. Wait – Quidditch? Surely she didn't mean to… But yes, Tonks was going out to the hall and now she was levitating in a familiar polished wooden case that Draco knew was Regulus's old Quidditch practice set.

Draco shot a glance at Harry and saw that the dark-haired teen was practically trembling with excitement; meanwhile, Tonks looked positively giddy. He rolled his eyes, forcefully containing his own rush of pleasure at the idea of flying again. Honestly, Potter was constantly _oozing_ emotion all over the place, and wasn't Tonks supposed to be an Auror? Surely they had to be able to keep themselves together at least to some extent, right?

The Metamorphmagus didn't seem deterred by Draco's scowl, however. She clapped her hands and explained jubilantly, "Since Remus isn't here, I thought we could get our exercise in a bit _differently_ today! I know that there are only a couple of us and of course _Professor_ Snape won't play," she sighed with a huge eye roll, "but I figured we'd leave the Snitch and Bludgers for now, I'll be keeper and you two can try to get the Quaffle past me. Whichever one of you scores ten goals first wins!" After a moment of satisfied reflection, Tonks's grin grew even wider and she added, "And obviously, at that point I'm automatically on the team with whoever the winner is!"

Harry beamed and agreed, "Of course you are, Tonks; we'll make great teammates!"

Tonks giggled but Draco interjected, "All talk and no action, _Captain_ Potter. Get your bloody broom and we'll see about that team."

Harry smirked wickedly and brushed past Draco, purposefully knocking into him as he headed for the stairs. "Scared, Malfoy?" he muttered cheekily.

Draco flicked a bit of lint off his shoulder and turned to retrieve his own broomstick. "You wish, Potter."

Several minutes later, Draco felt as though all the tension that had been consuming him the whole morning had melted away. He was on a broom again, and their makeshift pitch in the backyard was nothing like what he used at the Manor but was perfectly large enough to stretch his muscles, and he had just scored another goal and now he and Potter were tied nine for nine. And, best of all, when he focused as much on the Quaffle as he had been it was easy to imagine there wasn't a war going on and he was just a normal teenager playing Quidditch without a care in the world.

Harry and Tonks seemed to be in much the same mind space as he was; Harry's face was radiant and Tonks was laughing joyously as she tossed the Quaffle back out to the two boys with only a minor fumble. Even Snape, who had emerged from the house a few minutes prior and now stood at the edge of yard with his arms crossed, looked decidedly less severe than normal.

Draco caught the Quaffle and looped away from Harry and dived, then rocketed upwards, and he saw his shot, and he was about to win, but then Harry was there and had knocked it right out of his hand and was scoring. But Draco had leaned too far into his anticipated maneuver and before he could adjust, he felt himself tumbling off his broom.

It was horribly trite, Draco thought absurdly to himself, but time seemed to slow down, and the ground really did seem to be rising up to meet him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Snape whipping out his wand as though he would stop the fall, but the professor didn't seem to be moving fast enough, and Draco closed his eyes, preparing for impact.

But the impact, when it came, was much softer than it should have been, and it was odd, because he didn't feel sharp rocks or even powdery dirt or the cushion of a quick spell. Instead, he felt an inexplicable mix of muscled arms and a compact body and warm breath, and he realized that someone else was rolling across the ground with him and when they finally came to a stop, that someone else was rather heavily on top of him, breathing loudly. And when he opened his eyes, it was Potter, whose face was quite close to his own, and whose eyes were very green and very bright and open very wide.

And he couldn't help it, he laughed, because he was remembering how he himself had been on top of Potter probably looking rather similar not so long ago, trying to wake the boy up from what he thought was a terrible nightmare. And his whole body felt hot and there was an odd tingling twitch in his groin and he thought he really must have hit his head falling off his broom because he had known for a few years that he liked blokes but surely his body wasn't reacting to _Potter_ like that, was it?

And now Harry was looking at him quite oddly, and the dark-haired teen was getting up and offering him a hand and muttering awkwardly, "Geez, Malfoy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to knock you off your broom like that… _are you okay?_ "

And Draco just nodded and choked down a last mad giggle as he pulled himself to his feet, his hand clasped firmly in Potter's. And suddenly, he didn't give a damn that he had lost the Quidditch match or that he had told Potter about his mental defense or that Snape was always going about like he knew everything or even that his whole body ached and he would probably be absolutely covered in bruises tomorrow. For the moment he didn't even care that Voldemort had it out for him or that his Aunt Bellatrix seemed determined to see him fail or that Dumbledore wanted him to become a spy.

None of it mattered, because he had realized that he found Harry bloody Potter attractive and because he suddenly understood _why_ he couldn't quit telling Harry bloody Potter his secrets and because if anyone ever found out, Voldemort would look like a fucking pansy compared to what his _father_ would do. And Draco grinned at the irony of it all and ignored Potter and Snape and Tonks' shocked expressions as he brushed past them into the house, because suddenly he had realized that war or not, Death Eater recruit or not, he was still just a normal gay teenager who hadn't come out to his parents and had a ridiculous crush that would never come to anything. And suddenly he quite understood Remus's sense of humor. Some things would just never fucking change.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to** **lilly-flower15** **, who has reviewed three times, and to** **wajagirlliz** **, who has left me two very thoughtful reviews! And a big thank you to EVERYONE who has favorited and followed, and especially, to those who have reviewed. I LOVE hearing your thoughts!**

 **So, we just moved things right along in this chapter, didn't we? Sorry that it was a bit light on the Sev-Harry plot line, but Draco's a sucker for attention, and with such a cute face, he's hard to deny! :-D So, drop me a REVIEW and let me know what you think of our budding romance! Next chapter is Harry's birthday; what do you think this bunch ought to get up to? If you share your ideas I may take them into consideration. ;-)**


	6. A Birthday in Diagon Alley

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 6: A Birthday in Diagon Alley**

 **Post date: 6/28/16**

On the morning of July 31st, Harry woke up to the warm feeling of sunlight on his face and he knew that he had been allowed to sleep in late, which was a rare privilege as of late. He stretched lazily and grinned at the glorious aching feeling in his muscles. Hell, anytime he fell from his broomstick and he didn't have an arm turned into rubber or Dementors advancing on him, he had to count it as a victory, right? At least yesterday he had made the decision to jump in order to soften Malfoy's fall, rather than being knocked off the broom by another cursed Bludger or anything of the like.

When he turned to grab his glasses from the nightstand, he was surprised to find a couple presents stacked there. Remus was gone, and Hermione and Ron couldn't send him post at Grimmauld, so who—? But then he found a note in Remus's familiar hand:

 _Dear Harry, happy birthday! Sorry I couldn't be there today. The lunar cycle has a tendency of working out that way. I've gone 'round to the Weasleys' and the Grangers', and I asked Professor Snape to get your presents to you since I knew I'd be absent. Enjoy your day, Harry. Love, Remus._

Harry flushed with pleasure as he started opening the presents. He was incredibly sad that he couldn't spend the day with his godfather as he had once dreamed of doing, and was also disappointed that he couldn't be at the Burrow with the Weasleys and Hermione either, but still, he was grateful for Remus's thoughtfulness. His humor picked up even more as he looked at his first gifts. He had homemade fudge from Mrs. Weasley, a "Windy Whistle" that was surely from the twins' shop from Ron (he blew it but it didn't do anything besides make a bit of noise as far as he could see), and a new deck of Exploding Snap cards from Hermione. Hagrid must have also gotten in touch with Remus, because Harry found a box of the man's infamous rock cakes and a picture of the half-giant looking like a dwarf beside his "little" brother Grawp.

After admiring the gifts from his friends with a fond smile, Harry opened the next package and discovered that it was from Remus. It was a delicately carved wolf figurine, and when Harry placed it gently on the nightstand, it came alive and ran to Harry's wand, then wrapped itself tightly at the magic stick's base, just above the handle. Curious, Harry read the accompanying note, and was again deeply moved by the last true Marauder's kindness. The werewolf's card explained that it was a special amulet that he had designed and made himself, which Harry could use to call to Remus if he was ever in need of his aid.

Finally, Harry studied the last box, which was small and silver, and wondered who it could be from. There was a tiny notecard on the top and he saw that it was Remus's handwriting once more. It stated simply: " _Your father would want you to have this._ " Harry's breath hitched and he unhooked the latch and lifted the lid. The interior of the box was lined with rich green velvet, which protected what Harry saw was a tiny metal flask. It wasn't just a simple container, however, but rather an exceptionally beautiful one, ornately carved with an incredibly detailed lily on one side, and a proud-looking falcon on the other. As Harry lifted it out to study it properly, he found a slip of yellowed parchment that had been tucked underneath. Written in spiky handwriting he couldn't place were the words " _Wrought with love for you, that you may remember me always and cry for me not. Any memory received here will show itself to the holder with no Pensieve; any loving tear trapped within will become as a phoenix's. Only the best for you, my Lily love._ "

Harry read the note through twice more then stared in awe at the metal vial. If the note's promise held true, this was an extraordinarily powerful artifact. Had this been a gift from his father to his mother? It must have been, based on the letter's final words, but he had never heard of James Potter being known for any great skill in healing, or even in memory magic or magical creature studies, for that matter. Nevertheless, this vial had been created with incredible magic, of that Harry could be quite sure. He studied the details of the lily and the falcon once again before carefully setting the flask back into the velvet-lined box. It must have cost his father a fortune. There was a lump in his throat, and he felt even more grateful to Remus than he already had.

Harry dashed budding tears from his eyes and rolled out of bed, pulling on the Muggle-style jeans and t-shirt that he favored. He was honestly astonished that Snape had even acknowledged his birthday at all by delivering his presents _and_ allowing him to sleep in, and he couldn't fathom the man letting him off lessons for a whole day. In fact, based on everything Harry knew about the man's character, he would bet ten galleons that Snape was already in a foul mood about getting a late start.

However, when Harry slunk into the kitchen, Snape and Draco were both still at the table, looking rather calm. Snape was sipping a mug of tea and reading the _Prophet_ , and Draco was picking at the crusts of some toast while he pored over the Occlumency introductory text that Harry recognized as the one Snape had given each of them a copy of. At one end of the table there was a plate waiting for Harry, he presumed, since it was covered with the telltale shimmer of a warming charm and was still full of a couple slices of buttered toast and two fried eggs, the standard breakfast fare since Snape's residence at Grimmauld.

"Good morning," Harry muttered quietly, clearing his throat. Draco nodded brusquely in return, but Snape was silent. Harry still felt incredibly awkward about it whenever the Potions Master made breakfast for everyone, but the man didn't seem to mind, and after the first few times, Harry had even stopped sniffing for evidence of poison. (Not like he'd be able to catch it anyway, he had often thought bitterly). He sat down in front of the plate and added, a little too late, "Er – thank you, Professor Snape."

A small grunt from behind the open newspaper was his only response, and Draco didn't bother breaking the silence either. It wasn't until Harry was almost done with his meal that Snape finally spoke, announcing suddenly, "I thought that since you have received your school supply lists, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, that it would be prudent to make a trip to Diagon Alley to get your things today."

Harry gaped and dropped the piece of toast he was holding. "What? With _you_?"

Snape folded his paper and responded stiffly, "The thought doesn't appeal to me either, Mr. Potter. If you would bother using your head every now and again, you would realize that of course that is impossible. _You_ will be going with the Weasley family. Mr. Malfoy, however, will be perfectly safe with me."

Harry flushed – Snape always had a way of getting under his skin – and nodded curtly. No matter how frustrating the man was, he wasn't about to antagonize him when he was miraculously being granted exactly what he wanted: his birthday spent with his friends, far away from the depressing memories of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Draco, meanwhile, didn't appear at all surprised by Snape's announcement, and Harry speculated that their professor must have already told him before he came downstairs.

Harry scooped up his plate and tried to come off as utterly nonchalant as he asked, "So, when will we be going?" At Snape's impatient glare, he had the feeling he had completely failed at sounding indifferent.

"The Weasley twins have connected their apartment's floo to ours for the day," Snape huffed, wrinkling his nose slightly. "Since it's a Saturday and their – _store_ – is still rather new, it should be easy enough for Mr. Malfoy and I to… get lost in the crowd," he drawled, nodding towards Draco. "You'll stay with the Weasleys, of course, and later on we'll all meet at the shop to floo back here. Since you've both eaten, we can go now." Harry scrambled to his feet but Snape fixed both teenagers with a weighty glare before Harry could edge any closer the vast fireplace. "The wizarding world has changed since word of the Dark Lord's rise has surfaced," he intoned gravely. "Have you both got your wands?" Both teens nodded. "Keep them close, and _watch your surroundings_."

Draco just nodded sharply, looking tense, but Harry fingered his wand and eagerly agreed, "Yes, sir," and scooted closer to the hearth, ready to be off. He was excited at the surprise that he would finally get to hang out with Ron again, and was also thrilled that he'd soon be seeing Fred and George's new joke store. Knowing the twins as well as he did, Harry expected it to be wonderful.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

The first thought that popped into Draco's brain when he tumbled into Fred and George Weasley's tiny flat in Diagon Alley was that their color scheme was revolting. The studio-style apartment was crammed with shabby furniture of every color of the rainbow, including a brilliantly blue table right beside the fireplace that Draco promptly managed to stub his toe on. He stepped aside, cursing under his breath, to give space for Harry come through the floo after him.

Snape, who had gone through the floo first, gestured for Harry to go ahead down the rickety staircase into the noisy store below so he could meet up with the Weasleys. Simultaneously, he motioned for Draco to wait. Once Harry had disappeared, Snape drew out his wand and put a finger to his lips, reminding the blond teen that they would need to be quiet. When Draco nodded in affirmation, Snape rapped his wand on the top of his blond head, and Draco shuddered as the familiar Disillusionment Charm draped over his body. Snape cast one over himself as well, then reached out and took Draco firmly by the shoulder so they wouldn't lose track of one another as they made their way down the stairs, through the crowded shop, and into the street.

Draco was so preoccupied with carefully weaving through the milling customers that he barely caught a last glance at Harry, whose dark head was already lost in a pool of redheads and a bushy mop that Draco easily recognized as Granger's. Harry hadn't even been down there five minutes and he already seemed to be having the time of his life. But then Snape was pulling him onward, out the store's open door and into a little side alley, where he removed the charms that concealed them. Draco forcefully set the other teen and his Gryffindor posse out of his mind. Snape was right, after all; the wizarding world had changed since catching wind of the Dark Lord's return, a fact that was all too apparent for Draco as he noted the drastic differences in Diagon Alley. He would need to pay attention.

The formerly busy and colorful street was now a dim shadow of itself. Several shop windows had been covered in large Ministry posters outlining safety regulations, and some stores had been shut down entirely, with thick boards crossed over the doors. Draco realized with a start that even the famous wand shop run by Ollivander seemed to have closed; a window was broken, and the shelves inside appeared to be empty. He had known things were bad: he read the Prophet, and he had heard the Death Eaters' perpetual excitement as of late while they swapped countless boasts about their recent activities, which seemed to grow ever bolder. But neither he nor his mother had been allowed out of the Manor since his father had failed the Ministry mission and the Dark Lord had taken up residence in their home. It was one thing to hear about what was going on from the Death Eaters' perspective, and quite another to see this side of things in person.

Even worse, perhaps, Draco knew himself to be a pariah, simply due to who his family was. The Malfoy name had once demanded upmost respect, but since his father's imprisonment, he supposed the tides had turned. All the shoppers surrounding Draco on the street were in a hurry; they had unanimous expressions of worry and fear, and clung tightly to their children's hands as they pulled them along from store to store. Yet, Draco still saw many of the witches and wizards grimace as they passed him, whispering to their companions and glowering in his direction. A few braver witches even hissed audible insults from behind his back. Snape received his fair share of ugly looks as well, Draco noticed, and he supposed that even Dumbledore's open backing of the man wasn't enough to entirely quell society's long-held suspicions in times like these.

Snape, however, appeared unfazed, and merely scowled at everyone alike as he firmly steered Draco towards Madam Malkin's to be fitted for new robes. Goaded by the crowd's attitude and his godfather's example, Draco shook off the older man's hand and lifted his chin proudly. The Malfoys may currently be in disgrace, but his family was still undeniably one of the sacred twenty-eight, pureblood grace ran through his very veins, and no simpleton commoners could make him bow his head. The world was undoubtedly changing, but some things never would.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry served himself another helping of roast chicken and potatoes and grinned at Ginny, who was at the far end of the table cuddling a bright pink Pygmy Puff from Fred and George's shop. His own pockets were loaded with trick wands, Extendable Ears, and Decoy Detonators, and George had also convinced him to get on a waiting list for some Nosebleed Nougats ("free of charge to you!"), which apparently were top sellers.

The initial excitement of being back around the Weasley clan had faded some when Harry observed how desolate Diagon Alley had become, and his mood had taken an absolute nosedive when Arthur Weasley, in an odd attempt to be helpful, took it upon himself to narrate a long list of recent casualties and disappearances for him as they all darted into shops to get their goods. Molly Weasley was even more careworn and harried than her husband, and had rushed them through the shopping so they would be on the street for as little time as possible.

Now, however, Harry felt all the familiar warmth that the Weasleys embodied for him. The family matriarch had packed a huge picnic for the occasion, and they had all crammed into the twins' flat to have what Molly called "a proper birthday dinner." Fred had transfigured all of the existing furniture into an oddly-shaped table and accompanying chairs, and George had quickly decorated with lurid green balloons and sparklers "to match Harry's eyes," as he had explained with a wink. In the center of the table there was a massive chocolate cake with sixteen candles and a large letter H.

Harry leaned back in his chair, enjoying the cozy, uncomfortably full sensation that Molly Weasley's cooking always induced. On his right, Ron was licking gravy off his fingertips, looking similarly satisfied, while Hermione, who was to Harry's left, was watching the redhead's antics with a vaguely disgusted expression.

"So, Hermione, did you only just get back from Australia? How was it?" Harry asked interestedly. He had been right beside his two best friends all day, but in the hustle and bustle of shopping with Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley's steady stream of updates, Harry had barely managed to get a word in edgewise with either Ron or Hermione.

"Well, my parents loved it, and of course it was wonderful being with them for a few weeks, but there are an awful lot of insects there!" Hermione crinkled her nose, and Harry noticed Ron shudder beside him; they all knew how the redhead hated spiders.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and continued, "But anyway, we just got back a few days ago, and–" Hermione's voice lowered, "—with everything that's been going on, my parents are quite worried. I didn't tell them about what happened at the Ministry in June, but of course they've known since the end of fourth year that _he_ 's back, and when they looked through all the Muggle papers they asked me about it and I couldn't _lie_."

Harry wished he knew what to say; Hermione looked rather miserable and he certainly understood why. But what was there to say? As Malfoy himself had made perfectly clear in his recent attitude adjustment, the war was fully on now, and it was changing things – and most of the changes seemed to be negative, rather than positive. Finally deciding that maybe saying nothing was better than an empty platitude, Harry awkwardly patted Hermione on the shoulder to try and show that he sympathized with her concern for her parents.

Hermione offered him a tiny smile in return and took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. Then she continued firmly, "Dumbledore himself came to collect me though, Harry; he must have known they would be worried, and he was very kind, of course, and set up all sorts of defenses around their home, and even around their office." She peered at him shrewdly. "Have _you_ seen Dumbledore, Harry? We've been asking when you would arrive at the Burrow; we thought surely by now… but then yesterday Mr. Weasley finally told us that you had been taken to Headquarters with _Professor Snape_!"

"Yeah, I have seen him, but only for maybe ten minutes," Harry responded darkly; he still felt some irritation at the Headmaster's continued distance. "He came and got me from the Dursleys' and took me to Headquarters, but he didn't stick around and I haven't seen him since – that was a little over a week ago now."

Ron shrugged. "I guess he's got to be busier than ever now…" the redhead speculated. "You'll have seen there's a new Minister in office, the Scrimgeour bloke, and then there's all this mess going on everywhere…"

Harry nodded, determined not to dwell on his frustration with Dumbledore. "But anyway, yeah, you're right, Hermione, I _am_ with Snape, but Remus is there too, thankfully, and Tonks comes by quite a bit. But," and now his voice lowered as well, "You'll never guess who else is there with me."

Hermione looked utterly bemused. "Who?"

"Draco Malfoy."

At this, Ron choked on a chicken wing and burst into a fit of coughing until George reached around and pounded him on the back. Finally, Ron hissed, quite red in the face, " _Malfoy?_ What on earth is _he_ doing there? It's bad enough that you're stuck with Snape, but _Malfoy?_ "

Harry hesitated. He could hardly even believe for himself what he was about to say. "Well… it's quite odd, really, but he hasn't been so bad…" Hermione and Ron gaped at him in disbelief and Harry rushed to explain himself. "Honestly, I think he's been totally spooked. The thing is, we all know he was always full of codswallop at school, bragging about his connections and such. But since Lucius got himself arrested at the Ministry, I think Malfoy has finally figured out just how scary his father's pals are. Apparently old Voldemort and his buddies have moved into Malfoy Manor and he's gotten a much closer look at things. So, according to Dumbledore, Malfoy got fussed and decided he wanted out, and the Order agreed to offer him protection. And so now he's at Grimmauld. I reckon that's why Snape's there and not just Remus…"

Hermione and Ron had listened to Harry's explanation in silence, but even after he finished, they seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally, Hermione said, with the air of someone grasping at straws, "Well… I suppose everyone deserves a second chance… I mean, it can't have been easy, his father going to jail and everything, I guess…"

Ron shook his head slowly, and finally muttered darkly, "I reckon second chances have to be _earned_. And I bet you ten to one that Dumbledore's going to regret offering this one."

Ron's sinister prediction chilled the air, and Harry and Hermione fell silent, knowing there was no good way to respond. They simply had no way of knowing what Draco Malfoy would do in his changed position. All Harry could hope for was that if Ron was right, that those he loved would stay safe of the consequences. Too many of his friends had already been hurt because of him. Once again, Harry reflected that he would have to be even more careful.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Draco stepped out into the street, readjusting the various packages in his arms. Inside the Apothecary, he had left Snape waiting impatiently for the shopkeeper to fill his order of a variety of ingredients he'd run out of. This was their last stop, and Draco was relieved for it. He had felt tense all day and was ready to go back to Grimmauld.

Suddenly, he heard someone hiss his name, " _Draco!_ " He looked around sharply, but saw no one on the street that he recognized. " _Pssst! Over here, Draco!_ "

The voice was coming from an alley across the street, he realized, and when he squinted, Draco saw a flash of blond hair, so similar to his own. But surely it wasn't… his heart leaped. It was his mother; Snape must have told her they would be there that day so she could slip out to see her son away from the Death Eaters' constant scrutiny!

Draco shuffled the packages into one arm and hurried across the street; he could feel the small smile he always reserved for his mother fighting for purchase on his lips, but there were people about and he wanted to be discreet…

Ducking into the alley, he met the woman's blue eyes; he reached out to embrace her, but at the last moment he hesitated: her smile – it was wrong, cruel, somehow – and then cold steel sliced into the arm he had stretched out – once – twice…

The world seemed to spin, and Draco's sense of hearing changed abruptly; the noise made by passers-by a few feet behind him was suddenly heightened and their steps pounded in his ears, punctuated by the oddly faint sound of the raucous laughter that still haunted him in his dreams. Time slowed down, and Draco was very aware of it when his uninjured arm went slack and his packages tumbled to the ground; similarly, he was conscious of his seemingly gradual loss of vision and the growing sensation of weakness in his knees. Absurdly, however, it seemed that he could _notice_ all these things, yet was powerless to _do_ anything about them. As such, he was rather frustrated when he felt himself crumple and fall, just as his packages had done.

The woman he now knew without a doubt to be his Aunt Bellatrix leaned over him, still grinning, and clutched his chin, forcing him to look up at her. His mother's soft blond curls framed a unique mania that was all Bellatrix's own. "Just a little reminder to stay on your toes, Draco dearest… The Dark Lord is not known for his patience, after all – and neither am I."

With that, she spun on her heel and with a crack she was gone. Draco's world went black.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

At exactly five o'clock, Severus walked out of the Apothecary, expecting to find his godson waiting impatiently for him right outside. But when he instead found Draco in the alley across the way unconscious and bleeding from a cursed wound in the shape of a "V," the world suddenly seemed to warp to accommodate him perfectly. It was a surreal sensation that Severus had experienced more than once, in which everything seemed to melt into place in a certain thrilling way it had of doing when you were in a really tough spot, but managed to keep your head screwed on straight.

By 5:03, Severus had Draco firmly in his arms and Harry back at his side and he was stepping through the Weasley twins' fireplace to floo back to Grimmauld. By 5:06, Harry was chopping the herbs Severus had demanded that he prepare _immediately_ and the boy was thinking on his feet, shouting for the house elf Kreacher to come _now_. By 5:07, the elf had appeared with a _crack_ and Severus had tied a tourniquet around Draco's arm and tipped two potions down his throat. By 5:21, Severus was breathing a tiny sigh of relief because three hands were better than one and he might just be able to stop the curse from making its way to its destination – Draco's brain.

At 6:34, Severus finally stood still and just stared down at his godson. Draco's arm and chest and Severus's own hands were covered with blood, and the teen's breathing was still shallow, but the tortured expression had finally left his still unconscious face. The wound was now invisible, wrapped tightly in a clean bandage. It would need time to heal, although Severus knew without a doubt that it would leave an ugly scar. Still, the worst of the danger had been adverted. He knew that any curse perpetrated by Bellatrix Lestrange, targeting a victim's brain, could not be good.

Behind him, Severus could hear Harry's labored breathing. He turned slowly to face him. The dark-haired teen was trembling, and his gaze was stark; he seemed to look through his professor to stare at the blond Slytherin who was laid out on the table with his robes torn open. In the far corner of the room was the house elf Kreacher, who was rocking back and forth and feverishly hissing a curious refrain under his breath: "Must take care of the Malfoy boy, yes, Mistress wouldn't want any harm to come to him, yes, she will be pleased that Malfoy boy is safe, yes…"

Slowly, Snape walked past Harry and approached the elf. He looked down on the ugly creature and felt fierce pity for it. Finally, he spoke. "Elf, you have played a crucial role in saving Draco Malfoy's sanity tonight. You have done his family a great service. _If_ Master Potter permits it, you may stay here overnight to ensure Mr. Malfoy's complete recovery, and then return to the Hogwarts kitchen when your master commands it."

Both Kreacher and Severus turned to learn Harry's decision. The boy glared at the elf with his jaw clenched tightly; judging by his expression and his shaking hands, he was torn between his hatred and his sense of righteousness. At last, Harry gave a curt nod, and immediately looked away, back towards Draco. Kreacher's eyes widened in surprise, and finally, the elf was utterly silent.

Severus took another deep breath and examined his son's profile. As he studied the teen, who was staring fixedly at his school rival without an ounce of animosity on his face, Snape thought Harry had never looked more of a man than he did right now. Deep in his heart, Severus knew it without a doubt. Harry Potter was growing up.

 _To be continued…_

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's note: This chapter is dedicated to DIGI Fanbase 16, who left me a lovely review even though English is not their first language, and to The-Lady-Snow-at-the-Wall, who has left me a couple very thoughtful reviews. Thanks guys, and another HUGE thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited! It is very encouraging to know that there's interest in my story and I especially LOVE to hear your thoughts, so please REVIEW!**

 **So, yay! Another chapter down! I was a little bit nervous about opening our scope to include Ron and Hermione; how do you think I did? And what did you think about Harry's presents, and Draco's little accident? Leave me a review and let me know what you thought! We'll get some more Severus and Harry interaction next chapter; wink, wink.**


	7. A vision, two meetings, and a sketch

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 7: A vision, two meetings, and a sketch**

 **Post date: 7/6/16**

Severus Snape stared down at Draco as the blond tossed and turned on the makeshift bed in his Potions lab. He had been unwilling to relocate the teen to his normal bedroom as of yet; he wanted Draco's condition to improve before moving him too far from his potions stores. For now, he was stable, but his body was still struggling to recuperate from the devastating effects of Bellatrix's cursed blade. Even Dreamless Sleep Potion couldn't give the boy perfect rest when he was in this state. Sighing, Severus tipped another potion into Draco's mouth, softly rubbing his throat so he would swallow. He heard a low hiss and looked up to find the old house elf, Kreacher, crouched in one corner of the room, studying them both and wringing his hands.

"Mr. Malfoy will recover, Kreacher," Severus said slowly, reassuring the elf. "He is doing well. Please inform me if the fever returns."

Kreacher was quiet, and his eyes fixated on Snape's for a moment before he bowed, offering the Potions Master a deep nod. Severus bobbed his own head in return and swept from the room. He knew it would be impossible to leave Draco in any better care, even if Madam Pomfrey were available.

Upon leaving his Potions lab, Severus felt himself drawn, like a moth to flame, to Harry's bedroom. Weeks of watching the boy in the two-way mirror had taught him that his son often processed his emotional suffering in his dreams, and he wouldn't be surprised if Harry hadn't remembered to take any Dreamless Sleep that night due to everything that had happened.

It took only a moment of listening outside the boy's door to establish that his suspicions were well founded, and in less than a minute, Severus knew this wasn't just any normal nightmare. Harry was speaking in his sleep, but it wasn't the relatively common whimper of "No, not Cedric!" or the even more standard, heart-wrenching moan of "Sirius, no!" Instead, he heard sputtering hisses that he was sure was Parseltongue, and his heart plummeted.

Without a second thought, Severus burst into the room. Harry was dreadfully pale, and was writhing on the bed; his eyes rolled back in his head and his scar stood out, bright red against his white skin. His jaw was tense and his lips moved incessantly as a stream of Parseltongue rolled off his tongue. For a moment, Severus was frozen, staring at his son as he trashed about. Having heard Dumbledore's record of Harry's experience the previous December, he was certain that the boy was having another vision of the Dark Lord's wretched snake.

Abruptly, Severus was overwhelmed with hatred: he abhorred himself, he despised Dumbledore, he loathed the entire bloody Order… _How had it ever been allowed to come to this? Why did a mere teenager have to bear so much? Why couldn't Severus do more to take this burden away somehow? Why, since he and Lily first met their newborn son, had he never ever been able to do enough?_

But then Severus shook himself and jumped into action, grasping Harry's clammy hand and casting a rapid _Petrificus Totalus_ so that the boy wouldn't hurt himself. As Severus's mind was temporarily cleared of the regrets that constantly loomed there, a new idea surged forth: he knew it would be nearly impossible to disrupt the vision while it was in full swing, but perhaps he could redirect its grip on the boy's mind, at least partially, to ease Harry's suffering somewhat. It would be risky, but most worthwhile endeavors were.

Severus gritted his teeth and focused on Harry's rolling eyes, and with a mental bound, he soared into his son's mind. However, it looked like nothing he had ever seen before, either in Harry's mind or any other. He seemed to be in a small courtyard that he immediately recognized as part of Hogwarts; yet the trees and stone walls were oddly dim, and he had to strain to make them out. In contrast, directly before him, he saw the Dark Lord quite clearly, towering tall with both arms outstretched. Once he focused on his master, Severus felt right: he could feel himself again; he was low, on the ground, but he was not kneeling… no, he belonged here, connected to the earth; this was normal… And then he saw his tongue flicker out, tasting the air, savoring his master's presence…

With a gasp, Severus tore himself free of Harry's mind, shuddering and struggling for breath. The draw of the vision was like nothing he had ever experienced before; he had entered into dreams, memories, fears and the like, of course, but his son's unique connection with Voldemort was characterized by a distinctly insidious and forceful pull. Even he, as an experienced Occlumens, had found himself very tempted to melt into the role that the vision had set forth… No wonder Harry had struggled so much.

Now better prepared, Severus steeled himself and plunged back in, immediately falling back into Nagini's perspective of her master. This time he ripped his eyes from the terrible sight of the unmistakably gleeful Dark Lord and turned his probing mental gaze inward, concentrating on the snake's mind… He had never entered an animal's mental space before, but he wasn't surprised to find that it manifested principally in lights and shadowy shapes. After a moment of concentration, he identified a dark gray mass, surrounded by ugly, thick black tendrils. He sensed that this was Nagini herself; the black, which must be Voldemort, was wrapped heavily around the snake's mental self, and as Severus watched, more thin black wisps slithered towards the mass and embraced it, pulsing in a horrifying way that was reminiscent of feeding.

Having discovered Nagini's mental presence, Severus knew that Harry also had to be there in a similar form, since he seemed to have been transported mentally into the snake's mind in the vision. He looked around and soon found a brilliant, deep golden orb of light that he instinctively knew to be his son. Similarly to what he had just seen happen to Nagini's mental force, thin black tendrils were reaching eagerly for it, although they were much weaker than those that had grasped the snake's mind. As he observed, Severus realized that they were aiming for a particular point, which he hadn't noticed before: the golden ball was blemished with a blackened expanse that seemed almost cancerous…

Severus put aside his horror and moved powerfully forward, throwing his own mental presence, which manifested as an emerald green sphere of light, between Voldemort's grasping reach and Harry's vulnerability. At once, he was overwhelmed as the black vines struggled to latch onto him. Severus felt as though the tendrils were sucking and dragging greedily at his very life force, and his preservation instinct screamed for flight: he felt himself shaking and the world shuddered as he suddenly snapped back to reality and found himself staring into Harry's still vacant eyes again. Immediately, he forced himself back through the boy's mind into the vision and encountered the grasping darkness and incredible pain once again.

Severus struggled back and forth for an indeterminable time, fighting to help his son, until abruptly, inexplicably, the black presence retreated and he felt the vision fade around him. At once, the Hogwarts walls that made up Harry's mental space became harshly clear to his sight and the golden orb transformed before his eyes. As Severus looked on, the light stretched and dimmed, growing into Harry's familiar shape. The dark-haired teen, who looked much the same in this new mental form as he did in his physical one, cast an uneasy glare around himself, seemingly studying his surroundings, before finally allowing his gaze to settle on Severus. Harry's mind must have developed significantly in order to create this corporeal mental persona, Severus acknowledged. The figure was sophisticated and thus very accurate to Harry's self, and Severus found that he was oddly delighted that even in his mind, Harry perpetuated that intriguing way he had of looking both defiant and terrified all at once.

Severus knew that with everything going on in the boy's head, the conversation they were about to have was one that would best take place in the physical realm, rather than the mental one. So once Severus was sure that Harry's attention was fixed on his own mental persona, he gave a short bow and politely withdrew from Harry's mind.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry was utterly confused. He had felt himself slip into the vision and nestle once more in Nagini's mind, forced to watch passively from her eyes as she – he – reported to Voldemort about a mission completed over the Full Moon. The vision brought with it the normal measure of burning pain, centralized in his head, and especially his scar… until suddenly, it didn't. He didn't understand why, just when Voldemort was most intensely focused on the snake's mind and thus on _him_ , the pain had abruptly eased. Indeed, the entire vision had faded somewhat, as if he were experiencing it through a thin barrier of sorts, and had only returned to its typical intensity in brief flashes.

Just as strange, when the vision ended, Harry had found himself back in the mental Hogwarts that he still didn't comprehend _how_ his mind had created. And even more bizarre, he had quickly realized that he wasn't alone: _Snape_ was there. Rather than the invisible probing force that his professor had always embodied in Occlumency lessons, however, now Harry could see him quite tangibly, as a man. He looked somewhat younger than he normally did, Harry noticed. But just as he had realized that, he saw that the visage of Snape was bowing, and then he turned on his heel and stalked off down a dark tunnel that Harry hadn't noticed before. There was nothing for it – Harry followed.

Upon doing so, Harry was suddenly launched back out of his own mind and the gray walls of Hogwarts disappeared, replaced by the dark shadows of his bedroom at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Right in front of him, sitting on the edge of the bed, was Snape. Harry was abruptly infuriated by the man's proximity – how dare he violate his privacy in such a moment of vulnerability – and he made to rise, to confront his professor, but found that he couldn't move. He was paralyzed.

Snape seemed to have noticed his rising anger and raised a placating hand. "I heard you having a vision, Mr. Potter," he explained softly. "I merely cast a Body-bind so you wouldn't hurt yourself, then used Legilimency to try and help you defend yourself from the vision's force. I'll remove the Body-bind now, but be careful to immediately relax your muscles so as not to cause any further harm, understood?"

Harry understood perfectly, but that didn't mean he wanted to obey. He wished now, more than ever, that he was at the Burrow or even Hogwarts and could just pretend the vision had never happened. As it were, he was quite stuck at Grimmauld, and he wanted nothing more than to jump out of the bed and throw Snape physically from the room… Finally, the professor whipped out his wand and murmured "Finite," so that he was released from the spell. Straightaway, all pretenses of protest faded as Harry felt his body sink visibly into the mattress. He could feel sweat dribbling across his forehead and moistening his shirt, and all of his muscles were trembling uncontrollably.

Then, he noticed Snape staring at him uncomfortably. _He probably enjoying the show_ , Harry thought bitterly. After a pregnant pause, the professor slowly reached for him, taking up his wrist and pressing his fingers into the inside of it. A few moments later, he said silkily, "Your pulse is quite low, Mr. Potter. I imagine you are feeling rather weakened?"

Harry nodded curtly. _Of course he was feeling weak,_ he reflected angrily, _or he would do something._ He couldn't help but feel that Snape was mocking him, no matter how subtly the professor seemed to be toeing the line.

As Harry watched Snape carefully, he reached into a deep pocket of his robe and pulled out a vial. "Pepper Up Potion," the man explained tersely, pressing it into his hand. "Four drops," he instructed, "I want you to be able to go to sleep after we talk but we also need to get your heart rate back up some." Harry hesitated. Perhaps if he refused, he could just go to sleep now and avoid this conversation until he was more prepared. But he saw Snape's eyes flashing and then he snarled, "Take it _now_ , Mr. Potter, or I will help you take it."

Finally, Harry obeyed, tipping the vial to his lips with an unsteady hand. Almost at once, he felt a warmth rush through his body and some of his strength returned; his muscles relaxed and the faint tremor faded.

"I will explain what I saw, Mr. Potter, and then I ask that you do the same," Snape said quietly, pausing until Harry gave a jerky nod. "I heard some commotion as I passed by your bedroom door roughly an hour ago after administering another potion to Mr. Malfoy. I suspected that you were having a vision rather than a normal nightmare because you were speaking Parseltongue at a rapid pace. Thus, I entered the room, and upon verifying my suspicions via your physical appearance, I used Legilimency, as I explained previously, in order to attempt to dilute the vision's effect over you."

Snape paused again, and Harry felt the man's slender fingers pressing on his wrist once more. Harry glowered; whatever his excuse was about trying to help, Snape should have just woken him, rather than invading his mind without permission. After a moment, Snape continued, "Upon entering the vision, it was apparent that you had been drawn to the snake Nagini's perspective as she interacted with the Dark Lord. There was a conversation going on, but of course, I couldn't understand it as it was conducted entirely in Parseltongue. The Dark Lord also seemed to be engaging with the snake's mind magically in a way that was not completely clear to me."

Harry didn't know what sort of magic Snape was talking about. From _his_ perspective, it had been a normal vision, in which he – as the snake – conversed with Voldemort about the latest wretched business. He studied his professor, who had paused in his explanation, seemingly hesitating.

After a long moment, the man added, "Finally, after entering your mind again after several months of not doing so, it is evident that you have dabbled in a novel form of mental defense. I do not believe there to be any immediate possibility of risk in this decision, but it is something that we will need to discuss in further detail at a more pertinent time. For now, I merely ask that you share your own perspective of the vision I just described."

Snape fell silent and Harry squirmed under his penetrating scrutiny. He reluctantly admitted to himself that the Pepper Up Potion had been a success; he felt considerably stronger. He was also still incensed at the man's meddling, however, and thus not much inclined to respond in any detail. Snape hadn't offered a substantial explanation of what he had done to cause the vision to change so drastically in the middle, and Harry was suspicious about his claims regarding Voldemort's alleged mysterious magic. Still, however mistrusting Harry may be of the man's character, Snape was the only Order member around and perhaps he would know what to do with the information Harry had gleaned from the vision.

"As you've said, _sir_ , the vision was of Voldemort's snake. She was telling him that she had completed the mission that he had set for her while the moon was 'at its largest,'" he explained dully, drawing quotes in the air with his fingers to demonstrate that these were Nagini's terms rather than his own. "It was a bit odd though, because she barely reported anything… she just said that she had watched each night, that 'the grey one' was eager and loyal, and that the colony had been infiltrated, as planned."

Harry thought back, trying to remember if there was anything else the snake had said that he was forgetting. Deciding not, he continued, "Then _Voldemort_ ," he spat the name, "got really giddy and started spouting off praises about how smart the bloody snake was… Then he said he just needed one last thing 'that only she could provide, as ever' and he reached out to her, and that's when the whole vision went a bit wonky. I could barely hear or see anything for the rest of it…" He added in an accusatory tone, "I suppose that's when _you_ came in, _sir_."

Harry's simmering frustration rapidly grew, as Snape's only response for a long moment was a slow nod. At last, the man spoke, "Yes, it seems that my presence did interfere with the vision," he acknowledged, "which is sufficient evidence that careful Occlumency should be able to help you gain a level of control over them." Harry felt himself flush as Snape's dark eyes fixated on his own. Oddly, however, the professor didn't dwell on the point, but continued, "It seems as though the rumors that Lupin heard were correct; Greyback must have coordinated an attack on a vulnerable werewolf pack –"

Harry interrupted, "But not the one that Remus was running with, right? I mean – the Order would know by now, wouldn't they? Why isn't anyone doing anything?"

Snape quirked a brow and answered silkily, "The Order has no way of learning any news of Lupin's mission until he himself reports it, Mr. Potter. We must all take measures to guarantee secrecy, since the Dark Lord has infiltrated so much of wizarding society. However," he added, "I encourage you not to worry about Lupin. This isn't his first time running with a pack, and he has weathered assaults in his lunar form on multiple occasions. He entered this mission well aware of the risks involved. He is set to return tomorrow, and at that time, he will share what he wishes of his experiences with you."

Harry turned his head, struggling to fight back the hot tears that threatened to tumble forth. He refused to show Snape how worried he was; he was so sick of being treated like a child and he knew that if he wanted to be allowed into the Order, he had to learn to accept news like this more calmly, even if it was Snape giving the report in that snooty, slippery voice of his. After a moment, he heard a creak in the floor as the professor rose from the bed, then the man had pressed the bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion into his hand.

"Take some to guard your sleep for the rest of the night," Snape said gravely. Once Harry had complied, dribbling a bit of the potion down his throat, the man paced quietly to the door.

The world started to dim around him as he drifted towards sleep, and the last thing Harry saw was the carved eyes of the wolf totem peering at him from where the wooden animal was wrapped around his wand. "Just be okay, Remus," he murmured, but any other words he might have offered faded away as the potion's relaxing effect spread through his body. Slumber came quickly, and Harry didn't even remember hearing the bedroom door shut behind Snape. Instead, he eased silently into rest.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

The following day, a Sunday, was a very quiet one for Severus. Draco remained unconscious, which Severus knew was best for his healing, and Harry chose to demonstrate his continued anger in the form of the silent treatment. Severus was content enough to let the boy brood, mentally storing away the image of Harry's moody green eyes. Since the boy had mustered some control over his normal shouts of rage, his eyes had become particularly expressive, and they shone like Lily's always had when she was angry. Remus had also failed to arrive as expected, and when the clock chimed 11:00pm on Sunday evening, Severus grudgingly accepted that Dumbledore, too, had neglected to respond to his summons. Even Kreacher had maintained silence over the entire day, not even reverting to his typical mutterings.

On Monday, a sense of life crept back into the house as Draco finally returned to consciousness. Harry persisted in his quietude, and Remus still hadn't returned, but late in the afternoon, when the sky had begun to darken into dusk, Severus was gratified when Albus Dumbledore finally appeared in the townhouse's dingy foyer.

"Good evening, Severus," the wizened warlock greeted him softly. "The Floo network has been totally compromised now," Dumbledore sighed, sounding worn. "Kingsley sent word just this morning. The Ministry still stands, but we will have to be ever more cautious."

Severus nodded. "Hello, Albus," he responded stiffly. "As you are well aware, our recent experiences merely confirm your words of warning."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore replied, although his voice was rather detached. "How _is_ young Mr. Malfoy?"

"Come see for yourself…" Severus snapped, turning to make his way down the hall. "Afterwards, you can meet with Potter to discuss his latest vision."

However, several minutes later as he watched Dumbledore peering through his half-moon spectacles at Harry while the boy recounted his vision, Severus reflected dourly that perhaps he should have kept the recent events to himself. These boys – Harry and Draco both – needed guidance, stability, and clear-cut explanations, not more pressure, waffling reassurances, or vague philosophical musings.

His patience was tried severely when Dumbledore asked Draco if he knew whether Bellatrix had any particular instructions regarding the Malfoy heir or if she was acting independently. Albus was supposed to be shielding the vulnerable teen and helping him separate himself from the Death Eaters, not encouraging him to skulk about in order to garner insights into the Dark Lord's schemes. On that point Severus was quite firm: Draco would _not_ be pressured into becoming the Order's new spy. That was a choice that he must make of his own volition, although Severus knew it wasn't the future he himself favored for the boy.

Now, Albus was offering Harry the standard platitudes about his latest vision. According to what the Headmaster was willing to share with the boy, it was all explained easily enough. Harry had a strange connection with Voldemort due to the curse scar and the prophecy that implicated them both, it was due to the Dark Lord's emotional highs and lows that the mental relationship was triggered, Harry probably connected with the snake because of his unique knowledge of Parseltongue and Voldemort's strong relationship with the animal, and it could all be controlled via Occlumency.

It was only days ago that Severus had been able to confirm two creeping suspicions: first, that the Dark Lord had created an as-of-yet unknown quantity of Horcruxes, and second, that Albus already knew about their existence. And already, Severus was absolutely furious that Dumbledore hadn't shared this knowledge with Harry himself. He, for one, didn't care if they weren't sure of all the details yet. Harry deserved to know what he was up against, especially considering the hints Albus had been dropping lately regarding the full extent of the prophecy. The Headmaster's guarded interaction with his pupil now, even when Harry's visions were obviously going to keep happening, was unacceptable.

Still, Severus kept his calm mask on until he heard Dumbledore's firm dismissal and Harry rose from his chair at the kitchen table, chewing on his bottom lip and rubbing his scar. The moment Harry was out of earshot, he would take his concerns up with Albus directly. This secrecy could not continue.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry slumped out of the kitchen, considering heading off the library to look for another book on Occlumency. He had to prepare for his imminent confrontation with Snape about his new mental defense, after all. He felt drained from reliving the vision as he told Dumbledore about it, and frustrated that his Headmaster continued repeating the same things that Harry had already heard more than once. Dumbledore hadn't even been able to offer any new information about Remus, despite the fact that the werewolf definitely should have returned by now. _What good was the Order anyway, if they didn't even know what was going on with their members?_

But as he started to climb the stairs, reflecting on the various Order members and what he and his friends knew about the secret group, Harry abruptly remembered how they always used to try and spy on meetings the previous summer. Perhaps he could do the same now, and since it was just Dumbledore and Snape, maybe they wouldn't even be on the lookout for it…

Now filled with swelling hope, Harry crept slowly back towards the kitchen, carefully skipping the second-to-last stair, which always creaked noisily. He edged towards the room, staying out of sight, but getting closer until he could hear the two men's tense voices.

"What exactly would you have me do, Severus?" Dumbledore was saying. "There's so much we don't know. I still haven't managed to persuade dear Slughorn to give me the correct memory… Why burden Harry further now, when he's already dealt with so much in recent months? There's still time to tell him everything when we know more –"

Harry heard Snape growl in response, "I will deal with Slughorn, Albus; I told you so already, didn't I? I continue to insist that you underestimate the boy and think too highly of your own strength! I've warned you countless times that my potions can only do so much!" Snape's voice lowered and Harry leaned forward slightly to hear the man hiss venomously, "Bellatrix's curse is like child's play compared to what that ring set loose on you…"

But Dumbledore did not respond with any new information; instead, the room fell quiet for a moment, and then Harry heard his Headmaster whisper a spell. Abruptly, the kitchen door swung shut and there was a ringing in Harry's ears. He knew he had been found out; the squeaky old floorboards must have given him away.

With renewed annoyance intermingled with intense curiosity about what exactly Dumbledore was hiding and what Snape knew about it, Harry reluctantly climbed the stairs again, aiming once more for the library. When he passed Draco's door, however, his thoughts were interrupted by the blond teen's low hiss, "Potter! Come here!"

Harry entered the room reluctantly, suspicious of what the other teenager might want. They hadn't spoken since before the accident. He tried to ignore the dreadful elf Kreacher, who was clutching a vial of one of Snape's potions and staring at Malfoy with adoration, and whom he couldn't help but hate for his role in Sirius's death. Draco himself was still stretched out on the transfigured bed, and his right forearm was wrapped in bandages.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked roughly, not finding it in himself to care how belligerent his tone was. He was upset by the latest revelation of more secrets, and he didn't know how he was supposed to hide that.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Easy, Potter, hold your damn hippogriffs, why don't you? An eye for an eye, right?" he said, sounding pleased with himself. "I figured I owed you one, since Kreacher here told me that you helped Snape to counteract my dear aunt's curse the other day." And with that, he reached back under his pillow and withdrew a small black book, which he then tossed to Harry.

Harry instinctually reacted and caught it, hardly believing his eyes as he studied the familiar thin sketchbook.

"Is this—? How—?" he sputtered. His anger was temporarily wiped away as intense surprise took over.

Draco smirked arrogantly. "It's all about knowing how to use your resources, Potter. I knew Snape would be busy with Dumbledore for a while yet even if they didn't meet with you, since we all know that the Headmaster enjoys fretting a bit about his golden boy," he sneered at Harry. "So I asked Kreacher here to find it and knick it from his room. Easy."

Harry stared at the other teen and the elf, dumbfounded. Just as easy as that, was it? "Go on then, look at it," Draco urged. "I already have, but I want to see what you make of it."

Still in shock, he slowly opened the book and started thumbing through the pages. Regulus Black seemed to have most enjoyed sketching living beings, Harry realized quickly. There were drawings of owls, a thestral, a niffler, and of several people: mainly Hogwarts students, Harry saw, with the familiar Slytherin crest on their robes. He paused on one image and tilted it towards Draco. "Did you see this one?" he asked lightly. The blond nodded, jaw firm, but didn't speak. The sketch was undoubtedly of a younger Lucius Malfoy.

Harry continued rifling through the pages, slowing down when he finally got back to the drawing of Tom Riddle's diary. He studied it carefully, but he didn't think that the sketch revealed anything beyond what he already knew of the cursed journal. On the following page, there was an incredibly detailed sketch of an ornate locket. It looked familiar, for some reason, but Harry couldn't think why. He squinted at the image. When he looked closely, he saw that along the links of the locket's coiled chain, Regulus had written something in miniscule letters: H-o-r-c-r-u-x…

"Horcrux," Harry murmured, reading aloud. "I've never heard of that…" he said, thinking out loud.

Malfoy's voice interrupted Harry's musings. "I haven't either," he shrugged. "And that's the last sketch there is," he said, sounding regretful. "And this one," he jerked a thumb towards Kreacher, who Harry saw was now rocking back and forth and making a quiet keening noise, "pretty much went berserk when he saw it, too, but he won't tell me why."

Harry winced, eyeing the obviously distraught house-elf. "Kreacher, this is important," he said hesitantly.

The elf didn't speak, however, but instead started whimpering under Harry and Draco's fixed gaze. Then he grabbed a heavy pestle from the table of Snape's supplies, obviously about to strike himself with it as a punishment. Before he could do so, however, it sailed out of his hand, and Harry felt himself go rigid when he heard Snape's cold voice behind him.

"You will order the elf to go back to the Hogwarts kitchens at once, Mr. Potter," the man instructed gravely.

"Kreacher, go," Harry commanded dully. With a crack, the elf was gone, and Harry turned deliberately to face his professor. On the bed beside him, he saw that Draco had propped himself up onto his uninjured arm, although he looked uneasy and was avoiding catching Snape's eye.

Indeed, the man appeared dreadfully livid, and he sneered fiercely as he reached out to take the book from Harry's hand. After glancing at the page it had been left open to, he snapped it shut and dropped it into his pocket.

Harry couldn't hold back any more. "Sir, what is that locket? Is it a horcrux? What _is_ a horcrux?" He didn't understand why, but he felt that it was incredibly important for him to know the image's significance, and he suspected that Snape knew something about it, since he was so eager to hide the drawing from them.

Snape's eyes bored into him. At last, he replied silkily, "Now is not the time, Mr. Potter…"

Harry felt the pent up rage boiling within him and it furled out in a shout, "IT'S MY HOUSE! I DESTROYED VOLDEMORT'S DIARY! I DESERVE TO KNOW, DAMNIT!"

 _If looks could kill_ ,Harry thought, _Snape's glare would certainly do the job._ In response to Harry's increased volume, the enraged professor's voice lowered in pitch. "Whether or not you deserve to know is not the question at hand, Mr. Potter. I have told you – quite clearly, I might add – that now is not the time." He paused, glowering at Harry and Draco both. "I absolutely _forbid_ either one of you to talk about this again, to _anyone_ , until I say otherwise."

Harry saw red. _How dare he_ —? But before he could summon any words in his own defense, Snape had whipped out his wand and was incanting an unfamiliar spell. Harry felt an odd sensation on his tongue and then on his dominant hand, almost as if both had been bound tightly with string. A moment later, the feeling faded, and Snape gave a sardonic nod before turning to leave the room.

Harry sunk into a chair. Just minutes prior, he and Malfoy had been on the edge of an incredible pinnacle of information. And now, he was damned to continued ignorance until _Snape_ saw fit. Every time he thought he couldn't despise the man more, his hated professor positively jumped to the challenge. Harry rested his aching head in his hands. He thought he might be sick.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's note: This one goes out to two new reviewers, BlueWater5 and AnimeLover2117! A huge thanks to everyone who has followed and/or favorited, and especially to those of you who have reviewed. I apologize that I'm a bit late on getting out responses to everyone, but I will catch up soon, promise!**

 **This chapter was pretty intense. I'd love to know what you think about the mental magic stuff in particular, and the new developments re: Horcruxes. Drop me a REVIEW and let me know what you think and how I'm doing! Seriously, reviews are majorly appreciated!**


	8. No Man's Land

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 8: No man's land**

 **Post date: 7/15/16**

Draco awakened with a start, his slumber disturbed by the now familiar sound of Walburga Black's harsh screams. He immediately felt the first pulses of a pounding headache coming on. Since the encounter with his Aunt Bellatrix in Diagon Alley, he had been plagued with migraines: a side effect of the curse wound, according to Snape. And now, it seemed that their highly anticipated guests had arrived with a very literal bang. Snape had warned him that the Weasleys and their Mudblood tag-along would be arriving soon, but he hadn't been looking forward to it.

His dread was especially pronounced since Snape had sent his short-lived ally, the house-elf Kreacher away. The Potions Master was undoubtedly still furious about the sketchbook incident, the werewolf Lupin hadn't yet returned, and Potter would now be thoroughly distracted with his little Gryffindor fan club. Draco's sense of utter isolation at Number Twelve Grimmauld – and in wizarding England at large, for that matter – was more pervasive than ever.

Draco stared morosely at the ceiling and groaned quietly when he heard the Weasley matriarch mention his name. They had silenced the horrid portrait by now, but seemed to still be standing in the hall, and even though the group was speaking in whispers, their voices carried easily into his temporary room since the door was ajar.

"Harry, dear, is it true what Ron's told us, that the Malfoy boy has been staying here with you all these weeks? I could hardly believe it, since Dumbledore hasn't mentioned it at all, and of course, his parents – well…" the woman's nosy voice stammered out and Draco rolled his eyes.

Harry was quick to reply, however, and Draco heard the teen say, "Yes, Malfoy got here even before I did, actually. I don't really know all the details," he added with a cough, and Draco realized with some surprise that Harry was lying on his behalf, perhaps out of respect for his privacy? After a moment of hesitation, Harry continued, "But he's been laid up pretty bad since the trip to Diagon Alley, thanks to a little run-in with Bellatrix Lestrange, so it doesn't exactly look like he's Mr. Junior Death Eater, does it?"

At once, Draco heard Ron's familiar voice scoff, "Oh, sure! He's got to be faking, Harry, come on! It'll be third year with Buckbeak all over again!"

Molly Weasley hissed, "Ron! How could you?" and Draco heard a faint slapping sound, as if the woman had swatted the teen's arm.

But then Harry's voice echoed along the hall again and now he sounded uneasy. "No, Ron… he's definitely not faking. After the Ministry—" his voice broke but then he continued, "—you should know that Bellatrix is no joke."

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and then Harry said quietly, "Now come on, then, I can help you all take your stuff up to your rooms."

And with that, Draco heard a low shuffle as the various members of the group gripped trunk handles and owl cages and then creaked away up the stairs. He leaned back in the bed and examined his right forearm, which had been wrapped in bandages for various days until Snape had finally removed them early that morning. The Potions Master hadn't made a big affair of it, just explained curtly that any further healing would be very gradual, but that he should continue to treat it with cooling cream until all the pain had subsided.

The new scar that was left there puckered up from his pale skin. It was ugly and red, with a faint black outline that surrounded the scar itself and then trailed upwards along his arm until it approached his shoulder, where it suddenly stopped. Draco flexed carefully and inspected the roughly carved letter V that marred his flesh. He wasn't officially marked, he knew, but Bellatrix had managed to brand him all the same.

Dumbledore and Snape had promised him a choice and protection, and now it seemed that even Harry Potter of all people was willing to defend him to some extent. He was surrounded by arrows pointing him towards the Light. But as Draco studied the ugly scar on his arm, he was acutely aware that whatever his choices were, most of the Light probably wouldn't even want him. He chuckled grimly at the irony of it. Here he was, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, holed up in the Order of Phoenix's headquarters with the bloody "Chosen One" and the most infamous blood traitors around, and freshly marked as Voldemort's own. He was in no man's land, and he didn't know the way out.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry wasn't used to there being so much hustle and bustle going on at Number Twelve Grimmauld anymore, since it had been so quiet over the past few weeks with just Draco, Snape, and Remus. But Molly Weasley had marched in and taken the house by storm. Within the blink of an eye, she had set all the teens to scrubbing and sweeping to "freshen the place up a bit." Harry had thought he would have plenty of time to catch up with Ron and Hermione from the off, but in reality, their interaction that day was reduced to quick grins as they passed each other on the staircase on the way to their next chore.

Oddly, Harry didn't mind it as much as he would have imagined, since it gave him some time to think. Draco and Snape were both conspicuous in their absence from the house's activity, and his thoughts wandered to the two Slytherins time and time again. Ron's comment about Draco faking the severity of his injury had bothered him greatly. Was it just because now that he was faced with the weight of the prophecy, Harry needed to know that Ron could take the war seriously? Somehow, he didn't think that was the full extent of it. The reality was that he had seen changes in Draco over these weeks; he had noticed the other teen's overtures towards the Light. After so many years of seeing him as a snobby little Death Eater wannabe, Harry could finally understand a bit of the pressure Malfoy had been under. Seeing the damage that his own aunt had been willing to inflict on him… it was mind-boggling. Draco had always bragged about his family, but _what a family_!

Meanwhile, Snape was also acting strangely. The Potions professor was definitely still a git, Harry knew, but he hadn't been as much as a jerk as he could have been since they had both taken up residence at the old Black house. He was giving him Potions lessons – and they were actually decent for once, too – and he was getting along well enough with Remus, and he had apparently agreed to give him Occlumency lessons again despite the disasters of the previous year. Plus, he had taken him to Diagon Alley, and had even _tried_ to help him with the vision a few days ago. Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about that last bit, since Snape's interference had cut off his access to the information he so craved, but really, it had sounded like the professor hadn't really known exactly what would happen himself, and it _had_ helped with the pain.

And then there were the bizarre events of the day before: Snape's conversation with Dumbledore – in which he actually seemed to be _defending_ him – and then his reaction to their theft of the sketchbook and that word, _horcrux_.

Frankly, Harry didn't know what to make of it. One minute Snape was telling Dumbledore that he was underestimating him, and the next, he was refusing to share what he knew about Regulus Black's sketches. Sometimes he was almost kind to Harry – like when he tried to help when he was in pain from the vision, and delivered his birthday presents in the night – but then at other times he still treated him just as harshly as he always had. The man was full of contradictions, and Harry was hard put to know which version of the Slytherin was the truer one. Or was it all a game of masks?

He was still lost in his musing when Ron and Hermione converged on him in the room he would now be sharing with his redheaded friend again.

Ron threw himself across the twin bed that had customarily been his and groaned, "Finally! It was like last summer all over again! I thought she'd never let us go."

Hermione settled into the armchair in the corner, humming her agreement. "Well, now that the dinner dishes are done and this place is all tidied up, I expect it'll take Mrs. Weasley at least until tomorrow to come up with more chores for us. At least here she's more pleasant, since _Fleur_ isn't about…"

Ron snorted and looked pointedly away. Harry thought he saw a blush creep across the redhead's cheeks. "Fleur Delacour?" He asked, eyeing his two friends curiously. "From the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "It seems she and Bill have grown rather close, and so she's been staying at the Burrow but she doesn't seem to get along very well with Mrs. Weasley. But that's no matter – she's gotten her own flat now, closer to Gringotts. Anyway," she continued, brightening, "how have you been? We barely had any time in Diagon Alley since it got so hectic with Malfoy's injury… Is he alright? Are _you_ alright?" She sucked in a breath and whispered, "Have you heard anything new about – well, about _Voldemort_?"

Harry tensed, remembering his vision from a few nights before and how Snape had delved into his mind. He very much wished to avoid sharing that with _anyone_ – after all of the events of the previous year, he knew no one would be happy to hear about him having more visions. Dumbledore and Snape had made that quite clear.

Finally, he said, "Yeah, I think Malfoy will be alright. Snape was able to stop the worst of the damage, so I guess Malfoy got lucky in that respect. And I'm fine. I've just been here with Snape and Remus and Malfoy… sometimes Tonks comes by. It's been a bit boring, really; we have Potions lessons every day to help Snape restock the Hogwarts supplies." At this, Ron and Hermione both raised their eyebrows, looking disbelieving. Harry continued, "And there's been pretty much zero Order business here so no, I haven't really heard anything. Snape's quiet, and Remus has been gone on a mission. He should have been back by now but he's not and no one will tell me anything – Dumbledore even visited the other day and just told me not to worry about it."

The moment Harry stopped speaking, Ron and Hermione launched new questions simultaneously.

Sounding very skeptical, Ron asked, "Snape's been giving you lessons? Voluntarily?" while Hermione queried, with narrow eyes, "Dumbledore's been here? Just the once?"

Harry nodded to Ron first. "Yeah, he has. To me and Malfoy both. Did you guys see that note in the letter with our OWLs about being able to retake one?" When they both nodded, he continued, "So I asked if Snape had just been teaching me because Dumbledore told him to for that, because I need a higher Potions score to be an Auror, but he just said that he didn't do any favors for anyone in his classroom or some such drivel. I still haven't asked him if I can do the retake for him."

Ron had gone red again and was rubbing the back of his neck, while Hermione seemed to be studying her shoes. _Obviously Hermione wouldn't need any retakes, but maybe Ron?_ Harry nodded at Ron and said, "So? Were you planning to ask Snape too?"

The redhead nodded wryly, then muttered, "Well actually, I've already asked. I saw him earlier today in the kitchen and just went for it." He stretched out his fingers, cracking his knuckles. "He actually said yes!" He scowled, "And then he said something about how he had more important things to do than re-teach me five years' worth of material but that surely something could be arranged to make sure I revised properly. I can't say I loved the sound of it but the retakes have got to be done right at the beginning of school so I couldn't exactly protest…" He shrugged. "Who knows, maybe he'll put me writing lines or something."

Hermione announced, "Well, you're both just fortunate that Dumbledore offered this opportunity. Harry, you had better ask Professor Snape soon or he won't let you do the retake!" At Harry's reluctant nod, her brow furrowed and she returned to her original question. "So, what _have_ you heard from Dumbledore, Harry? You said he didn't tell you anything about Remus, but have you been able to talk at all…? I hope Remus is alright…"

Hermione drifted off, appearing uncharacteristically anxious, and Ron broke in. "Sorry, mate, but we've honestly been wondering if he's talked to you at all about those prophecies, from the Ministry… It's just that what with all the chaos at the end of the year, we never heard anything else, did we?"

Hermione flushed and looked at her hands. "Well, yes, Harry, that's it precisely, but we don't want to pressure you; I mean obviously if it's private, then…" 

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, it's okay. We just haven't had time, have we? So, the prophecy that Voldemort wanted got smashed, right, but it turns out that it wasn't the only copy. Dumbledore was the one who had heard the original prophecy, sixteen years ago… And it looks like the _Prophet_ has pretty much got it right, for once, with the whole 'Chosen One' business. According to the prophecy, I'm the one who has to kill Voldemort." He swallowed. "Or at least, it's either him or me."

The room was completely still. Ron and Hermione looked at him with a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Finally, Ron broke the silence with a murmur of "Bloody hell, mate."

Hermione's wide brown eyes fixated on his and she asked softly, "Are you scared, Harry?"

After a long moment, he shrugged. "I don't know… I mean, it doesn't really change anything, does it? In the end, it's always come to that, hasn't it? I'm more of just _frustrated_. Dumbledore dropped this on me, and I guess it's good to know, but since then he hasn't _done_ anything… he's still just distant, and hasn't told me anything, and even when I finally saw him outside of school and we had a chance to talk he just told me to keep practicing Occlumency and that was it, really."

Ron looked worried and Hermione bit her lip. Ron glanced at them both and then said, "Well, my parents are a bit frustrated with him, to be honest – I know they are, even if they haven't said anything. Things are getting more and more serious and yet Dumbledore's been quiet; it's like he's keeping all his cards to his chest…"

"Maybe he's hoping that he can protect you somehow…" Hermione speculated weakly.

"Or maybe he just doesn't think I'm good enough," Harry responded darkly. "I heard him and Snape talking the other day, and Dumbledore was saying they still had to figure some stuff out. And it was totally bizarre because Snape sounded like he got really angry, and he told Dumbledore that he was underestimating me… it sounded like he was mad that Dumbledore hadn't told me something… but then Dumbledore cast a spell and I couldn't hear anything else."

Hermione and Ron looked even tenser than before, but Harry plowed on. "The thing is that now I'm pretty sure that Dumbledore is keeping some sort of secret from me, and I _know_ that Snape is hiding something too… It's a long story, right, but Malfoy and I found this book, and—"

Harry's voice suddenly broke and his throat felt hot and dry. His vision seemed to go fuzzy for a moment, and when it cleared after ten seconds or so, Hermione and Ron were looking at him with a vaguely dazed expression. He tried to speak, to finish his explanation about the sketchbook, but his brain and mouth didn't seem to be connecting properly. An echo of something he had heard recently drifted lazily across his mind, " _I absolutely forbid you – I forbid you – I forbid you to talk about this_ …" It was Snape's voice, and with that, it clicked. Harry could feel the hum of magic in the air surrounding him, and when he looked again at his friends' lax faces, he knew that Snape's spell had affected them also. They didn't seem at all perturbed when he abruptly rose and strode from the room to find Snape.

After a quick search, Harry located the Potions Master in his provisional lab on the first floor. The bed that Malfoy had been using had been transfigured back into a table, which Harry took to mean that the teen was finally well enough that he didn't need to stay right next to the potions supply. Upon his entrance, Snape quirked an eyebrow and inquired, "Yes, Mr. Potter? Was there something you wanted?"

When Harry was silent, only responding with an ugly grimace and a jerky point towards his throat, the man sneered and said smoothly, "Ahhh. Well I did tell you not to speak on the topic, didn't I?"

With a wave of the man's wand, Harry gasped as he felt his voice return. "Ron and Hermione will have noticed," he spat.

Snape merely smirked and twirled his wand between his long fingers, turning back towards the potion he had been inspecting. "I think not, Mr. Potter. Surely you don't imagine my mental magic to be so crude?" With a flick of his wand, he turned down the heat under the bubbling cauldron. "Perhaps this experience will remind you to take heed when I tell you to hold your tongue. By any means, I'll reiterate the warning. Now that the Weasleys are here to serve as guardians, I won't be staying at Grimmauld much longer… and they wouldn't want their precious 'Chosen One' to be kept quiet until September, would they?"

Harry studied the man's back. "You're going to find Slughorn, aren't you, _sir_?" he ventured daringly.

The Potions Master slowly turned to face him, his piercing glare framed by his greasy black locks. "Why, yes, Mr. Potter, I am," he responded slowly. "I had forgotten that your listening skills are indeed employed occasionally, when it suits you," he added sardonically.

Harry faltered for a reply; he couldn't believe that Snape had actually answered the question. "What – What is it that you're hoping to find out, sir?" he pressed boldly.

Snape examined him for a moment before answering this time. "I expect you'll find that out for yourself quite soon enough, Mr. Potter," he said softly. "It would do you well not to forget that old houses often have many hidden ears. Now, if you're quite finished wasting both of our time…" he gestured towards the door.

Harry knew he had been dismissed, but still he dawdled. If Snape was leaving soon, he may not have another chance… "Professor? Will you please approve my petition to retake the Potions OWL?"

Snape's black eyes snapped up to meet his. "Yes. On the condition—" Harry groaned internally, preparing himself for the worst, "that you continue to practice your brewing up until the semester begins," Snape finished smoothly. "I will be gone, but I've told Mr. Malfoy that he is to oversee you and Mr. Weasley, since he has already been accepted to the NEWT level. I trust you will help to keep Mr. Weasley's temper in check, of course."

Harry nodded tersely. _So this was the idea that Snape had hinted at with Ron._ "Yes, sir. Thank you," he muttered, heading towards the door.

"And Mr. Potter," the man's voice sounded behind him, "Just because I will not be around to give you lessons in the interim does not mean that I do not expect you to continue working on your Occlumency. I will know, come September, whether you have been practicing."

Harry jerked out a last nod and stepped into the hall. He would never have imagined the day in which Snape would be instructing _him_ to referee between Malfoy and Ron. Hell, for that matter, he wouldn't have thought that he would be able to have any semblance of a productive conversation with either Snape or Malfoy! The times were changing, and strangely enough, he didn't really mind.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

The following day, dinnertime found Draco pacing in the library, hiding from the raucous crowd in the kitchen. He had been trying to stay out of the way all day, overwhelmed by the hubbub of so many people in the house. He wasn't sure he was prepared to handle their suspicion and wary looks; he had run into the Weasley girl in the hall once already and she had dealt him a few choice words before he managed to shake her off.

Still, when he heard the front door slam, followed by a spew of profanity in an unfamiliar male voice, Draco bolted from the room towards the front foyer. The stampede of feet on the stairs told him that the Order cohort was on their way up from the kitchen as well, but in the split second before they arrived, Draco took in the scene before him.

Remus Lupin had returned, and he was covered over with bruises and smelled foul. He was struggling with two figures. The woman, who had wild chestnut brown hair, had Remus in a headlock that the former professor was fighting fiercely against, while he also maintained a tight grip on the man's wrist. The man, who seemed to be trying to help Remus, although it was hard to tell, was thin, wore tattered Muggle clothes, and was just as black and blue as Remus was. This was who Draco had heard cursing violently, and as he took in the man's savage eyes and snarling face, he knew instinctively that he and the woman were both werewolves.

Just as he came to that conclusion, he saw a bushy head of hair rocket out of the stairwell, getting dangerously close to the violent foray. Instinctively, before he even knew what he was doing, he had reached out and snatched Hermione Granger by the collar of her blouse, yanking her backwards as he yelled, "Stupid Mudblood! Stay out of the fucking way!" He threw her behind himself and whipped out his wand, peering anxiously at the werewolves, who were now all three staring aggressively right at him.

The female werewolf's eyes danced and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but before she could, various bolts of red light flashed upwards from the lower staircase and another shot downwards from the upper one. With a thud, the two werewolves that flanked Remus fell to the ground, and Draco saw four wands aimed at Remus as Snape, Tonks, and Molly and Arthur Weasley all entered the hall. Harry, Ron, and Ginny darted out from behind the adults and crouched next to Hermione.

Draco's gaze and wandpoint remained fixed on Remus, who nodded gravely at the wizards who surrounded him and lifted his hands in a sign of peace. "I am Remus Lupin, a werewolf and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Severus's first words to Draco when he entered Number Twelve Grimmauld Place were to tell him that it is rather rude to approach one's host with wand drawn."

Both Snape and Draco slowly lowered their wands, and after a brief pause, Tonks and the Weasleys followed suit.

"You're going to trust _Malfoy's_ word?" Ron hissed. Draco turned slightly to see him rising with his fists clenched. "After he called Hermione a Mudblood? He says he's changed but clearly he hasn't! He may be lying about this being Remus, too!" he insisted, gesticulating wildly.

Draco felt his jaw tighten, and he looked around at Ginny, who was holding Hermione's hand and looked as furious as her brother, then to Harry, who stood next to Ron but looked guarded rather than angry. Then he looked to Molly and Arthur, who had matching nervous expressions, and to Tonks and Snape, who weren't looking at him at all, since their attention was focused completely on the werewolves. Remus considered Ron with a tranquil expression, as if he were studying an interesting creature that he could present to his students in a lesson.

"Look, it just came out, alright?" Draco finally snapped. "Granger's Muggle-born and she obviously hasn't heard all the stories about werewolves like I have since I was a kid. She just came racing in here and she clearly has no idea how dangerous werewolves can be, even when they aren't transformed – especially just coming off a full moon. And besides, it's not like Lupin's said something that only I would know. Clearly, Professor Snape was there too."

Ron scowled and seemed ready to retort, but Remus interjected seriously, "Perhaps the terminology used wasn't the best, but Draco's right and his quick thinking likely saved Hermione from a serious injury. She should have been more careful. It takes a lot of magic to stop a werewolf, even when we're in our human form." He looked softly towards the witch, who was still on the floor, trembling. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

When she gave a shallow nod, Remus turned back towards the two werewolves who were still lying prostrate on the floor. He studied them carefully as he spoke in a monotone to the wizards who formed a semi-circle in front of him. "Greyback and some of his pals attacked us on the second night of the full moon. They killed several wolves that night, and on the morning of the third full moon day, they persuaded various others to join their ranks. I was unable to remain undercover, and after being recognized, it seems that this one," he nudged the female with the toe of his boot, "was instructed to pursue me at all costs and kill anyone who got in the way."

Remus sighed and continued dully. "Jerome here is a Muggle werewolf, so he doesn't understand all the politics, but he wasn't keen to see me take off on my own once he got wind of the female. We did all we could to lose her, but when Greyback tracked us down again, I knew I had to apparate here if I wanted to be able to save Jerome's life."

Remus's audience was silent for a moment. Molly and Arthur had edged farther into the hall to stand protectively in front of their children, and Tonks remained immobile, her eyes intensely focused on the graying werewolf's bruised face. Finally, Snape lifted his wand and nodded curtly at Remus. "Shall I?"

The worn man shook his head and pulled his own wand from a holster that was concealed inside his right boot. "Thank you, Severus, but I can clean up the mess I got myself into. Apologies, everyone," he said tightly, and then with an expression of sad determination on his face he brandished his wand at the Dark werewolf female. "Avada Kedavra!"

The spell that cut off the werewolf's life force seemed to ironically return vigor to the wizards who observed her death. Molly started making shushing sounds and she and Arthur crowded their children and Hermione back towards the kitchen. They tried to bustle Harry in that direction as well, but he shrugged out of the Weasley matriarch's grip and stalked off towards Snape's potions room. Tonks squatted next to the dead werewolf's body and muttered an incantation that set the corpse ablaze, and Snape kneeled next to the male werewolf, who was still stunned, and opened his torn shirt to better examine his injuries.

In all the movement, only Draco and Remus were still. Draco looked across the foyer at Remus and met the man's eyes. He had seen the killing curse used more than once since the Dark Lord's return, but he had never before heard it uttered with such deep regret. Remus seemed to understand Draco's evaluating gaze, and the werewolf offered the blond teen a gentle nod. Draco returned it before turning to follow Harry down the hall. Snape would need plenty of healing potions ready to treat the two werewolves' wounds. Draco felt an odd current of peace well up within him. He was well aware that his allies were few and far between, but of Remus Lupin, he felt quite sure.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's note: Whoohoo! More drama! This chapter is dedicated to… ME! Why? Because it's my birthday on Sunday! So, feel free to leave me a review as a birthday present ;-)**

 **But in all seriousness, this one goes out to DeiStarr, who took the time to give me a long and very constructive review! And, a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and/or favorited the story. From now on I'll only be responding individually in PMs to reviewers, as I don't want to come off as a total pest, but it's always great to know that there are people enjoying my writing.**

 **And, for anyone who has read my 2005 fic, "Love and Honesty," you may have recognized the Muggle werewolf's name, Jerome. It's a little tip-of-the-hat to my fifteen-year-old self's OC creation, featured in that story. Tata for now!**


	9. September the 1st

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 9: September the 1st**

 **Post date: 11/8/16**

Harry leaned against the windowpane and gazed out at the small yard, stroking Hedwig's feathers absentmindedly and watching the shadows of dusk darken the garden. He noticed that Draco was sitting outside by himself, with his back to the house, and when he saw a silver gleam Harry knew that the blond was playing with his custom-made snitch. Harry had observed him messing with it on a few occasions since the Weasleys had arrived, and it always reminded him ironically of the fifteen-year-old James Potter that he had seen in Snape's memory.

The days after Remus's return to Number Twelve Grimmauld had seemed to fly by. Snape hadn't stayed long after the werewolves' arrival, only delaying his departure one day to ensure that the necessary potions for their recovery were ready. In addition to leaving Draco in charge of overseeing Remus and Jerome's dosages, he had also entrusted Harry and Ron's revision lessons to the blond Slytherin, as promised.

Remus welcomed Draco's care, and Harry often found the blond teen sitting between the two werewolves' beds, conversing quietly with them. Hermione was also a frequent visitor, as Jerome seemed to enjoy quizzing her on how she had adapted to the wizarding world. Harry had developed some fondness towards the Muggle werewolf as well, and was grateful that the two men could keep each other company while they were both bedridden. It was still very painful for him to think about, but Harry knew that he wasn't the only one deeply affected by his godfather's death.

Despite the werewolves' vocal approval of Draco, however, Ron was still fiercely suspicious of him, and the more blatant the redhead's taunts got, the nastier Draco's responses had become. Harry tried repeatedly to make them see that they were on the same side now, but it was to no avail as neither of the teens would listen once they got started. After a particularly volatile episode in which Ron overturned a boiling cauldron full of the Draught of Living Peace, Hermione and Ginny began to sit in on the Potions lessons as well to diffuse some of the tension. The two girls remained cold towards the Slytherin, but Harry had actually heard Hermione offer him a terse thank you for getting her out of the werewolves' way in exchange for a brusque apology from Draco about calling her a Mudblood.

Arthur and Molly didn't seem to know what to make of Draco, who consistently maintained impeccable manners with them, but responded in monosyllables when they tried to initiate any type of conversation. Draco always thanked the Weasley matriarch for meals, but rarely ate at the kitchen table with the others, instead offering quietly to take plates up to Remus and Jerome and then dining with them instead. The blond teen also avoided the miscellaneous Order members who had started stopping by from time to time for dinner since the Weasleys had taken up residence in the house.

In contrast, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny couldn't get enough time with the new visitors, who usually arrived unexpectedly – Kingsley Shacklebolt a few times, Alastor Moody twice, and Mundungus Fletcher and Hestia Jones once each. The Weasley twins, Bill and Fleur, and Tonks were all frequent guests. Each visit meant a snippet of news:

"Scrimgeour's finally scheduled a session with the Wizengamot to talk about Azkaban's defenses."

"The Aurors are low on numbers; some of 'em have stopped coming to work."

"There's been rumors about a poisoned batch of Wolfsbane out on the black market, tell Remus to pass the word along when he can, won'tcha?"

Harry felt, some days, like he lived for these bits of news. He knew that Draco did too, as the blond always hunted Harry down after the visits and approached him with one blond eyebrow raised. Neither of them had seen the _Prophet_ in weeks since Dumbledore had asked for them not to receive owls at Grimmauld, so they weren't even able to get the newspaper's veiled assessments of the situation. Harry also found himself listening sharply for both Dumbledore and Snape's names in the scattered updates, but Dumbledore was rarely mentioned, and Snape never was.

Then, just a couple days ago, Tonks had come in looking shell-shocked, with tears streaming from her eyes, and announced, "Mad-Eye's dead." Try as he might, Harry couldn't shake the memory of the lifeless way the woman had fallen into a chair and dropped her head into her hands, looking totally broken. Her voice had been shaky as she explained, "We got a tip-off that there was an attack going on at a Muggle primary school, but when we went to try and help the children, there were just too many Death Eaters there. You-Know-Who has been recruiting… I don't even know who it was that got him… We'll – we'll have to go back later to try and get the body; there was nothing I could do, being so out-numbered…"

Harry had tried very hard that night to make sure his mental defenses were strong, but maybe it was because he still didn't know how to manage his new Occlumency strategy or just because his emotions were running so high, but he had dreamt all night of Voldemort's cruel laughter.

Seeing Sirius die at the Ministry, then racing to treat Draco's curse wound, then watching Remus kill the female werewolf, and now hearing about Mad-Eye's death… The war had been very real for Harry since he saw Cedric murdered in the graveyard, but he knew that now it had escalated to a new level. He frequently heard Hermione muttering defense spells to herself, and Ron and Ginny had become particularly snippy with one another. Draco was even more withdrawn since the news of Moody's demise, and Harry often spotted him staring into space with haunted eyes, tracing the line of his curse scar through the long-sleeved shirts he always wore now.

Harry sighed, tearing his eyes away from the sight of Malfoy, hunched over in the yard glowering at the ground, the silver snitch twitching futilely in his hand. Hedwig hooted softly and he caressed her white head, then stood. He needed to pack. Tomorrow was September 1st, the day he had been so anticipating just a few weeks prior, and in less than twenty-four hours, they would be back at Hogwarts.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Severus Snape stood tall, staring down at the quivering man on the floor before him, and reflected bitterly that Dumbledore would probably always leave the dirty work to him. It had taken him weeks to track down Horace Slughorn, even with Dumbledore's hints about the types of places he liked to stay. He was slowed down further by various summonses; the Dark Lord had required his presence at a few gatherings, first to report on Draco Malfoy's "education" and then to go on a raid of a small wizarding village with some new recruits. Severus hated going on these terrible incursions, but his disgust was somewhat abated since he had at least managed to persuade Voldemort not to force Draco's attendance and had also used the opportunity to secretly take out a particularly sadistic new Death Eater.

Now, at last, after weeks of searching and two hours of "persuasion," Slughorn had finally handed over a vial with the correct strand of memory. Perhaps it was to his credit that Snape knew his old Head of House rather well and had no qualms about playing on his sense of guilt, or maybe it was because he conveyed an especially frightful air fresh off the raid, but whatever it was that made him do it, Slughorn had ultimately yielded after a little pressure from the Legilimens.

Severus tucked the vial with the memory into an inner pocket of his robes and turned to leave the Muggle house that Slughorn had commandeered. He stepped over a broken lamp and was almost at the bloodstained front door when he heard his old professor call out from behind him.

"S-Severus! T-Tell Albus and Harry I'm sorry, won't you?" the man pleaded tremulously.

The Death Eater-turned-spy felt a current of anger well up within him and he didn't bother to reply. He stepped out of the house, and with a crack, he was gone.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

On the morning of September 1st, the house at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was pure chaos as miscellaneous Weasleys ran back and forth with bits of toast in their hands, gathering lone socks and seeking out missing textbooks. Potter and the Weasel King's owls flapped about, adding to the fray, and Granger's ugly orange cat tracked their movements from his inconvenient perch on the stairs. Walburga Black's screeches added to the general sense of madness, but no one bothered to try and shut her up.

Draco felt himself drawn, as if someone had cast an _Accio_ , to the small room that Remus and Jerome had been sharing while they healed. As he approached, he heard soft voices and when he recognized Harry's, he supposed the other teen was also saying his good-byes.

"Mr. Weasley told me to be careful around Malfoy back at school," Draco heard Harry confess.

"As well you should," Remus's baritone rumbled. For a moment, Draco felt a pang of disappointment, but then the werewolf continued, "You know by now that I trust Draco completely. But he will have his own part to play at Hogwarts, and you shouldn't underestimate everything he'll be balancing, Harry. He'll need a friend now more than ever, but a cautious one."

There was a long pause, then Harry finally muttered, "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"Just keep your wits about you, Harry. You're a smart young man and I know you'll do well. Listen to Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape," Draco heard Harry's faint groan. "And remember to keep your resources close at hand always – your friends, your wand, the cloak, your father's gift, and my own. And Harry – take care." Remus's voice warmed. "We'll miss you around here."

Harry's response was too quiet for Draco to hear, and he assumed that a last embrace had muffled the words. A moment later the blond heard the other boy's footsteps and he jumped back, acting as though he were just approaching the door when Harry emerged. They exchanged a curt nod and Draco brushed past him into the werewolves' room.

Remus seemed to be waiting for him; he was sitting up in bed and there was a twinkle in his eye as he watched Draco enter the space. Jerome shot him a grin, "Hullo, Draco."

"Hi, Remus, Jerome. I just wanted to say good-bye." He glanced at his watch. "We'll be leaving in a moment."

Remus gestured to the chair by his bed and when Draco sat, the werewolf leaned forward to study his face intensely. "Draco, I want you to remember everything we've taught you this summer, Professor Snape and I. Not so much the potions and attack moves," he waved a hand. "Remember _who you are_ , Draco. Remember that you have _choices_ , and that your choices craft your true identity – not your birth, not your blood, not your house at Hogwarts. Understand?"

Draco nodded. There was a large lump in his throat and he couldn't seem to find his voice.

Remus squeezed his hand and Draco forced himself not to jerk away from the affectionate touch. "Be careful, Draco. Remember that the world is changing, and Hogwarts is too. Don't forget who your friends are. I know you'll have to act your part, but don't lose yourself in it, alright?"

The werewolf's tawny eyes remained fixed on Draco's grey ones until the blond shifted uncomfortably and muttered his agreement.

Jerome cleared his throat and finally spoke, "It's been a pleasure to meet you, kid. Take care and maybe I'll see you around sometime… Now, you better get going before Molly comes up and drags you out herself," he smirked.

"Right," Draco said, and he reached out to shake each of the werewolves' hands. He was already halfway out the door before he murmured, "Thanks for everything," and he strode firmly down the hall towards the front entrance without waiting for a response.

In the foyer, a woman-who-looked-like-his-mother-but-wasn't stood with her back to Draco, flanked by a giggling Hermione and Ginny. Upon closer inspection, Draco realized that Tonks was baiting Mrs. Black by making all sorts of rude faces at her while she was in Narcissa Malfoy's body.

"I hardly think my mother would approve," he drawled lazily, smirking when all three women jumped slightly at the unexpected voice. Ginny and Hermione promptly stalked off towards the kitchen, rolling their eyes, but Tonks gave an exaggerated wink that looked entirely out of place on Narcissa's delicate features. Indeed, it even looked out of place for Tonks: it was too forced and intentional and didn't seem to correspond with the woman's typical spunk.

"Wotcher, Draco," she said, with a small smile. He could see that she was just as subdued as she had been since Moody's death. Still, her face was stoic as she gestured to her transformed face and blond locks. "How did I do?"

The blond teen inspected the Auror carefully, swallowing back apprehension. He couldn't help remembering that the last time he had encountered someone using his mother's guise, it hadn't gone so well for him. But this was entirely different, he knew – it was actually his idea for Tonks to use her abilities to be able drop him off at the train station so his arrival at King's Cross wouldn't rouse any classmates' suspicions. Finally, he gave Tonks a brusque nod of approval. She had captured his mother's appearance very well: he doubted even Bellatrix would have been able to tell the difference from just looking at her.

Moments later, Tonks had skillfully apparated herself, Draco, and his trunk to the wizarding portion of King's Cross, and she continued demonstrating her skill at subterfuge as she wove through students and their parents at the bustling train station. Her expression was positively icy, and she cast a particularly haughty glare at a group of Gryffindor second-years that Draco knew she would normally greet effusively.

Tonks's fierce adherence to her character helped Draco hype himself up for the long train ride that awaited him. When Pansy caught sight of him and promptly glued herself to his side, barely pausing to offer his "mother" a little curtsy, Draco felt the familiar weight of his bloodlines settle on his shoulders. He was a Malfoy, he was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he knew the Dark and leaned towards the Light, and he could do this. He nodded to Theo Nott, offered Tonks a cool kiss farewell, and boarded the train.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry thanked the old witch who sold snacks and sweets on the train each year and returned to his compartment, where he dumped a pile of cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs into one of the empty seats. Since Hermione and Ron were busy with their prefect duties, he was sharing a compartment with Neville, Luna, and Ginny for this trip. He missed having Hermione and Ron around, but he enjoyed spending time with his other friends. He had to acknowledge that they did a pretty good job at keeping the mood light, despite the tense atmosphere on the train. He especially appreciated Luna's all-too-serious readings of excerpts of the _Quibbler_. Still, Harry's thoughts kept wandering to another friend, albeit a rather new and unexpected one: Draco. After so many days of close contact with the blond wizard in Grimmauld, it felt a bit strange to be here, back to his normal life as if nothing had changed over the summer. He still wasn't sure of how exactly to follow Remus's advice: how could he be a true, if secretive, friend to Draco when they ran in such different circles back at school?

Harry was musing over this dilemma and picking at a Cauldron Cake when Hermione and Ron entered the compartment, both dressed in their Hogwarts robes, with their prefect badges pinned to their chests. Hermione's face was tight, and Ron's normally jovial expression was twisted into a fierce glower.

"You had better get changed, Harry; we'll be arriving soon," Hermione said evenly, settling into the seat next to Luna.

He nodded and reached into his bag to jerk out his black robes. "Thanks, 'Mione. What the hell got into you?" he asked, nodding at Ron, who had thrown himself down next to Neville.

"Malfoy," the redhead hissed. "I swear he was even worse than normal this year. You'd think that –"

Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend – Ron needed to watch his words now that they weren't in Grimmauld. Hermione shot Harry a nervous glance and immediately followed his chain of thought, snapping, "Oh, get over it, Ron."

"Seriously, Ronald, aren't you used to it by now?" Ginny sighed impatiently, winking subtly at Harry. "Now shut it, because I wanted to hear about what Luna did this summer before we get to the castle!"

Ron's face went puce and he turned stubbornly towards Harry, as if hoping for some sympathy. Harry shrugged and muttered, "Sorry, mate. Don't let him get to you," and he slipped out of the compartment with his Hogwarts robes tucked under his elbow.

Harry strode down the long corridor towards the bathroom at the end of the carriage, picking up his pace when he felt the train shudder to a stop. They had already arrived, and he still needed to change. Standing in the doorway of the compartment just before the bathroom, however, were Draco and Theodore Nott. The two teenagers were in the middle of a whispered dialogue, but the moment Nott caught sight of Harry, he shot his blond companion a wicked smirk and turned toward Harry, jeering, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the Boy-Who-Lived…"

"Shut up, Nott, let me by," Harry responded tersely, warily avoiding looking at Draco.

Then he heard a feminine voice, "Oh, does little Potter have a temper?" It was Pansy Parkinson, who had emerged from the compartment only to twine herself around Draco as she lazily twirled her wand between carefully manicured fingers. "It would be _such_ a shame if wee little Potty got hurt somehow on the way to the potty, wouldn't it, dear?" she cooed in Draco's ear.

Theo drew his wand and stepped forward, but Draco barked, "No. Leave him alone, you two." When Pansy and Theo shot him confused glares, he shook off the dark-haired girl and whipped out his own wand, crying, " _Petrificus totalus!_ " before Harry could even react.

Harry heard the Slytherins snickering as his body, paralyzed, hit the floor with a dull thud. "I figure I owed him one," he heard Draco explain coolly. "For the trouble he got my father in at the Ministry." Then Harry felt his body rising under the control of a quiet _Wingardium leviosa_ , and Draco was depositing him none-too-gently on the floor inside the compartment. "The train will be departing again any moment and they'll never think to look for him all the way back here; he'll be headed back to London – where he belongs."

"Nice one, Draco," Pansy simpered, stomping savagely on Harry's paralyzed left foot and then kissing the blond's cheek before exiting the compartment. Harry couldn't avert his frozen eyes from the scene of affection, and wondered why it bothered him so. Was it old hatred for the cruel young witch who had always been so mean to Hermione? Or was it just frustration that he had already managed to muddle things up with Draco, before they even got to the school?

Before Harry could puzzle it out, however, Draco's piercing gaze met his stare. _I'll come back for you_ , Harry heard softly in his head, and he knew that the blond wizard had used Legilimency to speak to him. With a quiet click of the sliding door, Draco was gone, and Harry was left alone to wait for the blond to return.

But only a few minutes had passed before Harry heard a strange squealing noise and then the compartment door opened again, and rather than Draco, it was Ginny Weasley squatting next to him, clutching a squirming pink Pygmy Puff. "I taught Arnold here to track all my friends and family down by scent," she explained softly, before pulling out her wand and intoning firmly, "Finite Incantatem."

She offered Harry a hand as he struggled to his feet, favoring his foot from Pansy's blow, and then asked, "What happened, Harry? Ron and Hermione had to go off to help with the first years, but we knew something was up when you didn't come back right away… Neville and Luna thought you might have gone on to the carriages, but I said that Arnold and I would check the train first."

"It was Malfoy," Harry muttered darkly. When Ginny's red eyebrows shot up, he hurried to pacify her, explaining, "No, no, it wasn't his fault, really… it was mine. I should have done something, I guess, defended myself… It was just awkward, Gin. Nott and Parkinson were here and they were about to attack me, and I guess Malfoy figured things would go down better for me if he got to it first."

"Well, alright then, Harry…" Ginny said, skeptically. "If you say so. I know you trust Malfoy, but jeez, be careful, will you?"

"I would suggest the same." Ginny and Harry's heads swung around to find the source of the new voice and they saw Draco standing in the doorway, eyes flashing. "I won't be able to beat my dear _friends_ to the punch all the time, Potter. So watch yourself." With that, he spun on his heel and strode away.

Harry felt hot all over, as if he had just been caught red-handed, and he was uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Ginny, who hadn't removed her hand from his arm since helping him stand. "Thanks, Gin," he muttered, staring after Draco as the other wizard walked away. "Now c'mon, let's get going or the carriages will have already all gone."

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Severus Snape was always irritable at the start of the school year, but this year, he was feeling especially ill-tempered. He had met with Dumbledore that morning to review the contents of Slughorn's memory. _Six Horcruxes_ , four of which were hidden in unknown locations and still had to be destroyed… And yet, Albus persisted in creating excuses as to why Harry didn't need to know everything. He was a foolish old man, always thinking he knew best… but where had that gotten him? With a cursed hand and an imminent deadline, that's where, Severus thought grumpily.

Severus tucked his moody musings away as he slipped into the Great Hall and paced along the staff table to his place at Dumbledore's left. He ignored the Headmaster's nodded greeting and instead immediately perused the hall in search of two particular teenagers – there. Draco, at the Slytherin table, was practically _surrounded_ by the Parkinson girl, but he looked just as sullen as Severus himself felt. And Harry, three tables over, with Ginny on his elbow, appeared oddly flushed and a bit disheveled, as though he had yanked his robes on in quite a hurry. Both young wizards seemed to be rather determinedly avoiding looking towards the other.

The Potions Master sighed inwardly and fastened on his best glare as the small group of new first years marched in, led by McGonagall. It was going to be a hard year. Still, as he caught an eyeful of the beaming, pink-haired Auror that had just stumbled in, flanking the new students, he had to bite back a smirk. Of course they were in need of yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but Hogwarts had no idea what it was in for with Nymphadora Tonks on the loose. It would be a hard year, of course, but also an undoubtedly interesting one.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's note: At long last, I'm baaaack! I got buried under my studies for doctoral exams in the spring, some travel, my parents' car accident, and two academic conferences. But I'm back and plan to update as often as possible – hopefully every couple of weeks. Please leave me a review if you're still reading and let me know what you think of this chapter! Your encouragement is precious to me.**


	10. First week back

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 10: First week**

 **Post date:** 11/17/16

On the morning of September 2nd, Harry contentedly buttered his fourth piece of toast and shot a grin at Ron across the table. He was flanked on either side by Ginny and Hermione, and was currently trying to listen to Ginny's excited babble about their Quidditch prospects for the year and Hermione's whispered commentary on the low number of first years simultaneously. Both girls fell quiet when Professor McGonagall suddenly appeared behind them, clearing her throat.

"Good morning Misses Granger and Weasley, Misters Potter and Weasley," she said primly, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "Your course schedules," she explained, passing them each a small roll of parchment. "Potter, Weasley, you both have a free period this morning and Professor Snape has granted his permission for you to retake your Potions OWL. I trust that you have prepared adequately?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry answered quickly, as Ron nodded eagerly at his side, his mouth stuffed full of scrambled eggs. Harry glanced towards the staff table and saw Snape sitting there, deep in conversation with Flitwick. He was fiercely curious about whether the Potions Master had managed to track down Slughorn or not, but doubted that the man would freely offer that information.

When he turned back to face McGonagall, she offered the teens a curt nod. "Well, finish your breakfasts, gentlemen, and then off to the dungeons with you both."

As the witch strode away, Hermione immediately launched into a series of reminders. "Remember that for the Draught of Living Death, the root of asphodel has to be _powdered_ , not chopped, or it might explode, and you have to _peel_ the mistletoe berries in the Forgetfulness Potion or they won't have any effect, and –"

"Alright, Hermione, enough," Ron moaned weakly, anxiously massaging the back of his neck with long fingers.

Their brunette friend looked slightly miffed, but Harry offered her a small smile and said appreciatively, "Thanks Hermione, but we've been studying for days and you've helped us so much already – now we just need to get it over with, don't we?" He turned towards his redheaded friend and said, "C'mon, Ron, let's go down now so Snape doesn't have any excuse to dock House points for tardiness."

The lanky teen pushed his plate away and slowly rose from the table, looking grim. "See you later, 'Mione, Gin," he muttered.

Harry barely heard the two witches' good luck wishes, because he was completely distracted by a sight across the Great Hall when he stood. It was Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table; his chin was on Pansy Parkinson's shoulder and he was whispering into her ear as the dark-haired witch blushed and giggled. Harry thought he could almost see the blond's pink lips touching the girl's neck. The wizard who had been Harry's companion for so many weeks at Grimmauld Place now seemed like a total stranger. Harry couldn't reconcile this sleekly handsome wizard whose top priority seemed to be getting under Parkinson's robes with the serious teen that had studied Occlumency and Potions and practiced hand-on-hand combat with him.

Just as Harry was reflecting on how Draco's behavior seemed to have utterly transformed in a matter of mere hours, the blond looked around with the lazy air that only Slytherins could manage and caught Harry's eye. Suddenly, Malfoy's gaze became icy cold and Harry rapidly averted his eyes, feeling a flush of warmth creep up his neck. It didn't seem like Draco was just acting unfriendly, as Remus had suggested he would; there had been a thick current of anger in the teen's stormy stare. Thinking back, Draco's tone had also been rather hostile yesterday evening on the train, even when only Ginny was around. So much for the truce – maybe Draco regretted getting involved with the Order now that he was back at Hogwarts, among his old friends. Harry squared his shoulders and hurried after Ron, tossing Hermione and Ginny a quiet goodbye over his shoulder. Malfoy could take care of himself, if that was his preference.

But while he worked on his Potions OWL, Harry couldn't stop thinking about how Draco had demonstrated his changed behavior over and over again at Grimmauld. He was so distracted by the memories that he mindlessly wrote down the wrong response for the exam's question about the ingredients in Dreamless Sleep Potion three times in a row, and then nearly forgot to alternate stirs while brewing his Strengthening Solution. Finally, Snape called for the exam's completion, and Harry turned in a small vial of his orange-red potion. He knew the potion was a shade lighter than it should be, but he still felt rather confident, and he was cheered when he saw that Ron's Deflating Draught looked pretty good too.

It was proving to be an interesting start to the term, what with Draco's confusing attitude, the tense atmosphere in the Hogwarts halls, the surprising introduction of _Tonks_ as the new Defense professor, and an exam on the very first day. Plus, he was still achingly curious about the _Horcrux_ , yet there was no telling when Snape would see fit to reveal the strange word's significance. And, on top of everything else, countless Gryffindors he barely knew had been approaching him since dinner the night before asking for places on the Quidditch team. Harry hadn't even been back in Hogwarts for twenty-four hours, and already, it was pure chaos.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Severus paced quickly toward the Apparition point that was beyond Hogwarts' gates. He was increasingly hesitant about leaving the castle as the Dark Lord's power grew, but he knew that it would be a necessary evil the months to come. He fingered the vials in his deep pockets and futilely wished again that the Floo Network hadn't been compromised. At least soon, his visits to Grimmauld could be cut short. Remus and Jerome seemed to be healing nicely, and within a few weeks they would do well enough left to Molly Weasley's loving care.

The moment he passed through the gate that marked the grounds' boundaries, the dark-haired warlock spun on one heel and apparated with a tiny pop to the stoop at Number Twelve Grimmauld. He cast an anxious look over his shoulder and then stepped inside. At once, Molly Weasley bustled up from the kitchen with a bright smile in her face and a mug of steaming tea between her hands.

"Good evening, Severus," the matriarch whispered eagerly, holding out the warm beverage for him. "Tonks just sent a Patronus letting us know that you'd be here any moment – there are biscuits in the kitchen, but I know you're likely in a hurry, so I just brought you a spot of tea… It's frightfully cold out as of late."

"Thank you, Molly," he said tersely, accepting the tea. "You're correct; I want to be quick – I don't like leaving the castle for long with things as they are."

"Right you are, Severus," the woman said with a tremulous voice. "But everything's alright, isn't it? Ron and Ginny haven't yet written, since Dumbledore asked us not to receive many owls here."

Severus sighed. "It will have slipped his mind to instruct them that they could use the Patronus charm to communicate with you instead. I will ensure that the lesson is passed along, Molly," he said coolly, glancing past the witch down the hall. "But know that your children are well. Mr. Weasley has now advanced to NEWT level Potions and Miss Weasley brewed a rather exceptional batch of Soothing Solvent just this morning."

"Oh, Severus," the woman warbled, enveloping him in a warm hug that smelled of fresh baked biscuits. "Thank you, so much." She leaned back and wiped tears from her eyes. "I'll stop plaguing you with an old woman's worries, then, shall I? Remus and Jerome are right upstairs; they've changed into their own rooms now that they're able to move around a bit. I'll show you," she said brightly, still dabbing at her eyes as she turned to lead him up the stairs.

Severus went to Jerome's room first, and carefully examined the Muggle werewolf with the help of a few scanning spells. The man was quiet but watchful, tracking Severus's wandwork with attentive eyes. After a few minutes, he asked softly, "Am I healing okay? The werewolf stuff doesn't mess up the medicine, does it?"

"You're healing well, just a bit more slowly than I would have expected," Severus responded easily, before turning his mind to truly consider the rest of the older man's question. He hesitated for a moment before offering his hypothesis, which he had never before discussed with anyone. "It's interesting, really – I've learned how to tweak my brews for werewolves after a long relationship with your friend Lupin. But I've never worked with someone who's both werewolf and Muggle – I think your Muggle blood actually slows down the effect of the herb more than any of your lupine properties." Jerome raised his brows curiously, and Snape continued, "It's something I've seen with the Muggle-borns at school, in the hospital wing. The first years never respond quite as well to magical medicine compared with children from wizarding family. It's as though it takes some time for their bodies to adjust, but it all evens out after some time."

Jerome seemed to weigh the information in his mind before answering, "I bet You-Know-Who just uses that as another reason to say all of us nonmagical folk are useless, huh?"

"Not many people in our world would care to pay enough attention to Muggle-borns' reactions to medicine to even notice," Severus said tightly, rising from where he sat at Jerome's side. "I'll leave the rest of your potion with Molly," he commented as he walked to the door. "Just one more week should do it, I think."

He slipped down the hall and into Remus's room, greeting the werewolf warmly with a smirk and a drawled, "Good evening, Moony."

The thin man grinned in response. "Hullo, Severus."

Severus sat on the edge of the man's bed and began to administer the same scanning spells that he had used a few minutes before with Jerome.

"How's Draco?" Remus asked, eyeing Severus intensely.

"He's well enough," the man responded drily. "He's decided to run the gamut of coping strategies, snogging Pansy Parkinson, acting tough with Theo Nott, going flying by himself for hours every night."

"And you'll just let him get on with it then, will you?" Remus asked lightly.

"He'll break more easily when he's a bit tired of it," Severus retorted.

"And Harry?" Remus inquired. "You don't think _he_ 's getting close to the breaking point?" The wan werewolf struggled to sit up taller in the bed and lean in more closely towards Severus. "You don't think that it's _past time_ that you tell him the truth about who you really are to him?"

The dark-haired wizard suddenly stood with jerky movements and paced anxiously across the room before whirling around to scrutinize his old friend. "I'm not ready," he said at last. "When I decided fifteen years ago – not to tell him…" He hesitated, but then finished firmly, "I knew it wouldn't be easy for either one of us. But, I knew it was for the best, at the time. Now, I'm reevaluating that decision, but it's still not time, yet."

"You mean when _Dumbledore_ decided," Remus answered sharply.

"It was Dumbledore's suggestion, but _my_ decision, Remus," Severus said tersely. "By any means, are you sure you're the best counselor on keeping secrets? Have you talked to Tonks recently, dear Moony?" he asked cuttingly.

"There's a war on, Severus," the man replied, abruptly looking worn, and much older.

"Exactly," Severus said smoothly. "Exactly." He paced to the door, but looked back before exiting the room. "I promise that I'll tell him soon. But not yet."

Remus's only reply was a soft nod. Severus knew that the other man could understand his doubts all too well.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Draco shifted out of Pansy's vice grip under the pretense of pulling out parchment and a quill, and he surreptitiously eyed the so-called Golden Trio across the room through his blond lashes. The three teenagers were jubilant; Harry seemed to be telling his two friends some sort of joke and Draco watched as the dark-haired wizard elbowed Ron in the ribs and the redhead doubled over in laughter. Draco had heard the two wizards excitedly sharing their news with some Gryff buddies over lunch – it seemed they had passed their Potions OWL re-take a couple days before and would both be in the NEWT-level course on Friday, mostly likely along with Granger, too, he presumed.

Of course the Gryffindor wonder boys had passed it, Draco thought sourly, due to his and Snape's tutelage. But the lessons with Potter in Grimmauld Place seemed like a distant memory. Here at Hogwarts, everything was different. Potter had taken the first chance he had out of Ron's sight to cozy up to the Weaselette, whom Draco had always suspected Harry was interested in. Then, his Head of House had visited the Slytherin common room on their first night back, as always, but his gaze had slid easily over Draco as if he were any other student. Wasn't Snape supposed to be his guide in the castle, his connection to the Order? Meanwhile, Pansy was particularly poisonous lately and more determinedly intent on romancing him than ever, Theo was constantly hissing in his ear about the Dark Lord's plans, and Crabbe and Goyle had abandoned their normal posts by his side to flock behind Nott instead.

Draco knew he should have been more prepared for the start of his sixth year, but after several weeks in the Black ancestral home, he felt ill equipped for the decidedly harsher reality that Hogwarts had in store for him. Since hearing that Tonks was the new DADA professor, however, he had steeled himself for the encounter with his Metamorphmagus cousin in the different setting. His Slytherin companions knew his family history almost as well as he did, and Draco was aware that he had been on trial with the other Death Eaters' children since the moment he had set foot in the train station – the first Defense class of the term was no exception.

It should serve as evidence of the force of his resolution that Draco was able to manage such a fierce glower for the Metamorphmagus when she tottered into the classroom, three minutes late, in the form of a wizened old witch, complete with a gold-plated cane. At the table front of him, Theo tipped his head back with a smirk and muttered, "Blood traitor alert…" Draco felt himself tense as Pansy responded to Theo's comment with a throaty chuckle, and he quickly rearranged his face into an expression of revulsion. "It's disgusting," he murmured in reply.

At the front of the classroom, Tonks slowly unfurled the parchment with the roster of Gryffindor and Slytherin students and began to croak out the names of Draco's classmates. Between each name, she scrunched up her face and morphed her nose; although the laughter in the classroom became increasingly pronounced, however, her own wrinkled face remained staunchly serious. When the young woman called "Draco Malfoy," her brilliant blue eyes rose to meet his steel gray ones for a long moment before she donned a pig's nose and continued on to "Theodore Nott."

Finally, Tonks finished taking roll and the parchment and cane disappeared with a snap of her fingers. Rising to her full height, she loudly declared, "Welcome to NEWT-level Defense Against the Dark Arts!" and then rapidly morphed into her more familiar pink-haired and youthful self to a round of admiring applause. "I'm Professor Tonks, and as you may have guessed by now, I am a Metamorphmagus, but I am also an Auror for the Ministry."

The young woman drew her wand and with a silent spell and no explanation, she dimmed the classroom's lights so that she was barely visible. Draco raised a blond eyebrow, and fingered his own wand, ready to cast a _Lumos_ or a _Protego_ if he felt either was prudent. "Dumbledore has invited me to Hogwarts this year to help you all get ready for the NEWTs," she continued, her clear voice resounding even more strongly in the darkness, "but more importantly, I am here to prepare you for _action_ in the face of You-Know-Who's rise."

Immediately, whispers broke out in the dim classroom, but when the lights abruptly turned on again in full force, the students instantly fell silent. Draco peered around at his classmates and saw a myriad of uneasy faces watching Tonks with trepidation. Across the room, Harry was particularly severe, and Hermione and Ron were both examining him anxiously. After a long moment, Tonks began to speak once more. "Our first unit of study will be Concealment and Disguise. Perhaps you do not have my unique advantage in the area," she remarked calmly, "But nonetheless, you will all learn how to recognize and dismantle the disguises of others, and how to safely conceal yourselves as necessary. Now, who can explain for the class how Polyjuice Potion works?"

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry pored over the pages for Quidditch tryout signups that he had pulled from the message board just a few minutes before. With Alicia, Angelina, Fred, and George all gone this year, the team would be starting almost from scratch. He knew he had to let people try out for Keeper too, just to be fair, even though he hoped Ron could continue in the post.

With so many positions that needed to be filled, he had expected for several of his housemates to sign up, but this was ridiculous. It looked like almost everyone from second to fourth year was on the list, and a few new names that he was almost positive were first years. He sighed; he would have to ask McGonagall to reserve the pitch for several hours.

"Wotcher, Harry," Ginny saluted him enthusiastically, flopping into the armchair beside his.

"Adopting Tonks' preferred greeting now, are you?" He asked with a smile, glancing up from the stack of parchment.

"You've already had her, right? My year's got her class tomorrow morning with the Ravenclaws. I just know it's going to be great!"

"Yeah, it was good," Harry responded, thinking about how Tonks had reviewed the major differences between long-term use of Polyjuice Potion and semi-permanent glamour charms in their class that morning. "I think it'll be really useful," he added thoughtfully.

"Dean said he liked it too," Ginny informed him. "I'm looking forward to it. We're also _both_ looking forward to Quidditch tryouts, Captain!" she said cheekily.

"Both of you, huh?" Harry asked speculatively, glancing over to where Dean was in an animated conversation with Ron across the room, by the fireplace. "You two are getting pretty serious, then?" he asked, looking into Ginny's soft brown eyes.

"Well, don't tell Ron," she answered sharply, but then she softened. "But yeah. He's a good guy, Harry, and he's serious about getting ready for the war and all that. He grew up around Muggles, and he pays attention to stuff – he knows how bad it's getting," she explained seriously. Then her face brightened and she added with an exaggerated wink, "And he's a damn good Chaser."

"Well at least I know you're both serious about it," Harry groaned. He felt a sense of immense relief at her response about Dean, for some reason. He knew Ron had been hinting heavily that he should make a move, but Ginny was like a sister to him, and he was grateful that he could trust her to have his back on the Quidditch front. "I don't know who half of these kids even are," he whispered, gesturing helplessly to the tryouts list.

"Everyone wants to see the Chosen One in action," the redhead smirked.

"I just hope it's not a total failure," he said darkly, casting a nervous glare at his younger housemates, who were scattered about the room.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Severus pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders. Although it was only September, the night air had been cooler as of late – not everyone had the insight that he did to realize that the shift in the climate was due to increased breeding of dementors. Yet, for the third night in a row, Draco had left the castle under the cover of darkness to come here, to the Quidditch pitch. Tonight, Severus was surprised to find that the boy wasn't searching the night sky for his silver snitch, but rather, was repeatedly hurling the bright red Quaffle through the goalposts.

"Considering a change in position, Mr. Malfoy?" he called up.

It was to his credit that Draco didn't seem startled by his presence. He landed with a soft thud and responded, "My father has always maintained that the Seeker is the most honorable player."

"You would make a good Chaser," Severus mused, eyeing the teen. "You have a mind for relational strategy."

"Thanks," Draco answered sullenly. At Snape's raised brow, he grudgingly added, " _Sir_."

"I've noticed that you've opted to continue your interesting arrangement with Miss Parkinson again this year." Severus had always suspected that Draco wasn't truly attracted to Pansy, and instead used her as a defense mechanism. The blond's continued relationship with the brunette gold digger despite everything that had developed over the summer confirmed his theory.

"And?" Draco spat venomously. "We've always had a mutually beneficial understanding in the past."

"Simply another observation of your preference for interpersonal strategy, Mr. Malfoy."

"But of course, Professor, you've always had a knack for observing things from the sidelines, haven't you?" Draco drawled in a manner eerily reminiscent of Lucius.

Snape sneered. _This_ was why he had waited three nights to engage in conversation with the boy, although he knew that Draco had noticed him standing in a corner of the pitch the previous nights as well. "Come then, Mr. Malfoy, no need to sugarcoat it; tell me how you really feel. Does it scare you, being all by yourself in a dormitory surrounded by Death Eaters? Tempted to run off and tell the Dark Lord all about your new pal, the werewolf, are you?"

The boy's cheeks turned pink and his gray eyes flashed. " _Go fuck yourself_. You may have hooked me up with the Order but I do _not_ need you," he hissed vehemently.

Severus had never felt prouder of his unofficial protégé, and he leaned in until his lips were less than an inch from Draco's ear. He paused a moment until he heard the young wizard's heartbeat increase, and then spoke fervently. "Don't ever forget that while you have had to act the part on your own for all of a week, I have had to do so for almost _twenty years_. We _all_ have our parts to play in this, but you should thank Merlin that you have _no idea_ what it means to be _truly_ be alone."

With that, he spun on his heel, taking long steps across the damp grass. Just before he was out of earshot, he called back, "Five points from Slytherin for cheek. And detention

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry nervously approached the gargoyle that stood guard in front of Dumbledore's office, still unsure if he was doing the right thing. The first week back at Hogwarts was drawing to a close, yet his Headmaster hadn't shown any signs of wanting to call a meeting. Even Snape, with whom he had unexpectedly spent so much time over the past several weeks, had been silent and distant. After the revelation of the prophecy just a few short months ago, he had expected more guidance... And when he brought it up to Ron and Hermione, they had both been just as confused about the Headmaster's silence as he was, which was what provoked him to come here now, looking for Dumbledore. He wasn't ready yet to hound the Potions Master for answers, but he was getting close to it.

Harry thought he heard a shuffling noise behind him and turned, but saw nothing. It must just be nerves making him paranoid – lately, he found himself wondering more and more frequently if he really knew the Headmaster at all, and it was starting to get to him. But he knew he needed to at least _try_ to get more information.

"Alright," he sighed, eyeing the stone gargoyle. "Fizzing Whizbees?" The statue didn't move. "Chocolate frogs? Cockroach clusters? Sugar quills? Acid pops?" Suddenly, he remembered seeing Dumbledore back at Privet Drive, unsticking two yellow candies and offering Harry one between black, wasted fingers. "Lemon drops!" he declared, and immediately the gargoyle shifted aside so he could ascend the circular staircase.

As he quickly climbed the stairs, he pondered what he would say, and kicked himself for not planning it out more thoroughly beforehand. Really, now that he knew about the prophecy, he wanted to know what exactly that meant for the rising war. Wasn't there a plan? He slowly knocked on the thick wooden door, and suddenly wondered if Dumbledore would even be there.

But within a moment, he heard the Headmaster's familiar voice call, "Come in, Harry."

"Hello, Professor," Harry said quietly, slipping into the room. Glancing around, he noticed with some shame that the space was looking a bit sparse. It seemed that Dumbledore hadn't bothered to replace several of the knickknacks that Harry had destroyed in his rage at the end of the previous year.

"Have a seat, Harry. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Harry sank into the cushy armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk and shook his head. "No, thank you, professor, I've only just had lunch."

"Perhaps just a lemon drop, then," the old man said, reaching over to press one into Harry's palm. "Now, what can I do for you?" He inquired, studying the teen through his half-moon spectacles.

Harry struggled to start, but then it came out in a burst. "Sir – I've just been thinking – you told me about this prophecy, and how either Voldemort or I have to kill the other, but I don't know _how_ I'm supposed to do that. I know I've been up against him before but every time I've had so much help, and I've just been lucky, really, haven't I? And in the meantime everything's getting worse; Diagon Alley was practically deserted in the summer and Mr. Weasley was telling me about how tons of wizards have disappeared lately… And S-Sirius is gone, and now Moody, and Remus got hurt. I mean, I know the Order is trying to help, but it seems like the war is really getting underway now… And here I am back at school, for what? Just for NEWTs? I want to help too, Professor – I know I don't know as many spells as Tonks and the others do, but I can brew a couple good potions now that Snape's taught me, and I can help at Headquarters…"

Harry broke off when he saw Dumbledore looking at him with a faint smile and softly shaking his head.

"I admire your humility, Harry, and your dedication," the Headmaster said gently. "But your place is here. It's what Sirius would have wanted, and what all of the Order knows is for the best. Even Tonks chose to be here this year, because we know that as this war unfolds, all of Hogwarts will need to be prepared to make wise choices."

"It seems like she's teaching us stuff similar to how the Aurors are trained, sir. I know that will be helpful, but should she really teach that to all the little Junior Death Eaters?" Harry asked, barely concealing the bitter tone in his voice.

"Do you think there are so many among us?" Dumbledore raised a brow. "And do you think they are undeserving of an opportunity to change their minds? And even if they choose to continue following Voldemort, they are still just children. It is not for us to deny them the knowledge of how to protect themselves, and in time, as they realize the true monstrosity of their chosen master, they may yet come to reason."

Harry thought of Draco, and how much the teen seemed to have suffered, and bowed his head. He supposed Dumbledore was right – everyone deserved the chance reconsider their decision. The wizarding world had barely recognized Voldemort's return, and it was logical that many wizards would still be figuring out what that really meant.

"Harry," Dumbledore was now saying kindly, "I know that the prophecy is a weight on your shoulders, and it is for that reason that it was so hard for me to share it with you – although I recognize now that my hesitation was unfair to you. But it would be erroneous to think that in order to defeat Voldemort you must become a master of dark magic as he has, or that you should leave school in order to study dueling strategy full-time, or anything of the sort."

"Sir – I didn't mean – of course I don't want to study _dark magic_ –" Harry sputtered. 

"Perhaps these are abstract examples – they are ideas similar to those that occurred to a younger Albus, however, when he was faced with the dark wizard Grindelwald," the Headmaster said gravely. Harry's surprise must have been evident on his face because Dumbledore nodded softly before continuing. "What I mean to suggest, Harry, is that which I explained to you at the end of last term. You are already the owner of a power that 'the Dark Lord knows not,' and that, my boy, is your ability to love. You've just been demonstrating it again, in fact, in your selfless desire to help the Order."

Harry felt the familiar pang of intense frustration unfurl in his heart. "But sir, how do I develop a war strategy from _love_? There has to be something more I can do, something tangible to try and face him…"

The same small smile appeared once more on the Headmaster's face, but this time, it almost seemed condescending to Harry. "Leave the strategy to me, Harry. I daresay I have a bit of time left in me yet. There may indeed come a day in which you find yourself at the helm of this ship, but on that day I promise that your path will stand clear. Until then, I urge you to focus on your Occlumency studies – Professor Snape has promised that your lessons will resume, and he is a true master, from whom it should be an honor to learn."

Harry was about to protest, but Dumbledore must have seen it in his eyes, because he raised a hand, gesturing for continued silence from the teen.

"And remember, Harry, I beg this of you not to offend, but because of love. I loved your parents dearly, and I know they would have wanted you to have as much of a normal childhood as possible. Please don't run towards battle too quickly. Remember, my boy, the prophecy has already told us… on that day when you finally face Voldemort for the last time, it won't come down to whose wandwork is better. It will always be _love_."

The teen bit his lip and responded quietly, "Thank you, sir." What could he say to that? He had learned the lesson well enough this summer –when one means failed, that just meant it was time to try another. He knew he wouldn't be getting anything else out of Dumbledore, but that meant he had to go to someone else instead. And he already knew just who it would have to be.

"Run along, then, dear Harry. I would hate for you to be late for Potions; Professor Snape is ever so impatient about tardiness."

Harry needed no further encouragement, and he muttered, "Thank you, Professor," before tearing down the circular staircase and across the castle towards the dungeons.

When Harry slid into the classroom two minutes late, out of breath and panting, and heard Snape's silky, "Five points from Gryffindor and detention tonight for your tardiness, Mr. Potter," he didn't even get mad at the exaggerated punishment. Time one-on-one with Snape was exactly what he needed.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's note:** First off, a big thank you to all the new people who have favorited and followed the story! And an especial thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter :-) We'll have Friday night detention with Harry, Draco, and Snape in the next chapter – should be fun, right? Review and tell me what you expect/want to see, and let me know how you like seeing our favorite guys back at Hogwarts! There's tons of tension at the moment: so, do you love it, hate it, want more of it? Review, please, and let me know your thoughts. :-)


	11. Detention with Snape

_**Talon and Tail**_

 **Chapter 11: Detention with Snape**

 **Post date: 12/20/17**

 **Author's note and disclaimer:** I'm baaaaack (finally) and despite the passage of time, it still all belongs to Joanne Rowling! Enjoy!

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Harry peered over his shoulder, but again, there was nothing there. He had felt tense since returning to Hogwarts. Nightmares of Voldemort plagued him every night, and he thought the lack of good sleep must have been getting to him, because he had been unable to shake the feeling that he was being followed. He often thought he heard a shuffling noise or a light step behind him, but it only ever happened when he was alone. The teen was still ruefully studying the corridor he had just passed through when his forward momentum was interrupted by the presence of a warm body with a familiar crisp, woody scent.

If it weren't for Draco's quick reflexes, they probably both would have fallen, Harry thought, but the feeling of the blond wizard's strong hands gripping his shoulders only encouraged the prickling hot blush creeping up his neck. _He was a bloody athlete; why was he so clumsy?_ Harry recoiled, shaking off the other teen's grip.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he spat.

One blond eyebrow quirked upwards and a sneer spread across his pale features. "Manners, Potter, please. In case you've forgotten, Slytherins _are_ housed in the dungeons…" He paused, smirking at Harry before continuing. "Furthermore, Professor Snape has seen fit to give us _both_ detention tonight. Perhaps he thought it would be a suitable context to have a private chat with the two of us, you see?"

"With the way you've been acting, I don't really foresee any conversations I'd want to share with you anymore, Malfoy," Harry hissed, glancing over his shoulder again before adding hotly, "Do you honestly enjoy ramming your tongue down Parkinson's throat or is it all just part of the Death Eater training?"

To Harry's surprise, Draco's face remained expressionless. "Whatever, Potter. You know, when the Weasel's around as a point of comparison, I tend to forget how stupid you really are," the blond teen drawled coolly. "But now I've been reminded… you really don't know anything, do you?"

"I know you've been acting a right git!" Harry snarled, studying Draco's blank face and drawing in a shaky breath before continuing more quietly, "It's like nothing's even changed–"

Draco broke in, moving closer to Harry again. "Finally, Potter. You've started seeing sense." His gray eyes were flinty. "You are a Gryffindor. I am a Slytherin. Nothing that really _matters_ has changed, not here in this school. Cuddle with the Weaselette, try to free the house elves with bloody Granger, do whatever you want for all I care, but mind your own business and stay out of mine, because you know _nothing_."

Harry glared at the infuriating blond and balled a fist around the handle of his wand. His throat felt tight with anger and he wanted nothing more than to hex Draco… was there some memory curse that would take the impudent brat back to the summer, when politics mattered but didn't seem as omnipresent? Hermione would know, he thought abstractly. He opened his mouth – either to tell the other teenager to get bent or to throw a curse, he wasn't exactly sure – but before he could say anything, Draco had already turned away dismissively, moving toward the door of Snape's office.

"Just leave it well enough alone, Potter," the blond muttered darkly. "Let's get on with this," he said, knocking on the oak door of the Potions Master's office, "or Snape's going to give us an _actual_ detention instead of this fake one."

The words had barely tumbled from the teen's pink lips when the door swung open and Harry felt a crackle of magic that made Draco crumple, collapsing to the floor. Harry cried out and bolted forwards into the office, narrowly dodging Draco's prone form. Before he could look about the room, however, a low voice hissed "Legilimens," and Harry felt himself fall backwards into his own mental version of Hogwarts.

Harry immediately found and recognized Snape's forceful mental presence, which he felt now as a wintry cold wind that rushed angrily through the stone halls of Harry's mind. The teen still didn't understand how to use Occlumency with his new mental form, but he didn't want to see a repeat of the ill-fated lessons from fifth year again, either. Harry watched the green-tinged wind that represented Snape's mental self approach a long hallway that was lined with doors on either side, and bit down his sense of powerlessness. Instead, he tried desperately to imagine that it was the third floor corridor from first year, and that Hagrid's three-headed dog Fluffy stood guard, snarling, at its end.

The dog came to being in Harry's mind as a thin, wispy form, which Snape's gale quickly banished. " _Try harder, Harry_ ," the wind whistled darkly. But Harry didn't know what else to do, and as he struggled to think, to figure out some defense, the opaque wind lashed against door after door. Harry watched helplessly from some undefined point _above_ as each door yielded, one after another, allowing a flood of memories to spill out – he saw Draco's stony gray eyes in the corridor from a few minutes prior, then a vision of the teen intertwined with Pansy Parkinson in the Great Hall exploded in front of his face. When that cleared, he watched the blond loom over his petrified body with wand raised on the train, saw Draco excitedly handing him Regulus's sketchbook, then felt the heat of the other teen flush against his own body on the ground of Grimmauld's garden. When the prickly feeling returned to his groin at the memory of Draco pressed against him after the Quidditch game, Harry cried out in shame and imagined a golden wind of his own that furiously gusted against Snape's dark presence, pushing him away from the memories of Draco.

The professor's wind seemed, momentarily, to yield, since it dwindled and grew faint. But then Harry felt it surge violently in another area of his mental castle and the thick stone walls of his mind trembled. Harry heard himself cry out – the attack seemed to rock his very _foundation_ , as though he himself were a castle that was being assaulted by Muggle bombs or cannons – and he wondered abstractly if the cry came from his physical body or was only in his mind. Then he wrapped himself in the imagined golden wind and launched himself downward, toward the pain.

He whipped down staircases and through passageways and finally found Snape's emerald squall in a small, dim courtyard that was overrun with lush, creeping ivy, wild lilies, and thick moss. Harry tried to imagine a storm of light that would overpower Snape's presence and shake him from his mind, but then the man's own tempest lashed against a group of thick black vines that were choking a pale tree in one corner of the courtyard. Suddenly, snippets of visions and nightmares inundated the courtyard: red, flashing eyes in which a fiery blaze reflected; the horrific screams of a group of Muggle children at a school; a slithering snake with jaws open wide; a stampede of centaurs with their eyes gouged out; a towering giant that threw a unicorn foal off a cliff; a high pitched laughter that grew madder and madder as Harry cringed, forced to listen…

At last, the cold laughter broke and Harry felt Snape withdraw from his mind as the shadowy dungeon office came into focus around him once again. He was cold with sweat and could feel his knees trembling in the wake of the unexpected mental assault, and he was sure Snape could read the fury in his eyes when he finally managed to look up. Before Harry could say anything to the man who stood rigid before him, wand in hand, however, Snape coolly declared, "I have three simple questions for you, Mr. Potter."

"Have at it, then," Harry snarled, straightening his shoulders.

"Have at it, _sir_ ," Snape whispered dangerously. "We're back in Hogwarts, Mr. Potter, and we must remember our places, or others will see fit to remind us of them."

"Ask away, _sir_ ," Harry said, raising his chin defiantly. "I'm next, and I have _plenty_ of questions to ask."

Harry's insolent tone was met with a stoic expression. "First, Mr. Potter, why did you fail to protect your ally?"

"I didn't exactly expect my _professor_ to attack us in detention, did I?" Harry snapped, feeling his hands balling into fists by his sides.

"Then you have learned nothing from young Barty Crouch, or from Moody himself, or from Tonks, or from Lupin, or from me, for that matter," Snape hissed. "Need I preach the old refrain? _Constant vigilance_ … remember it, _or someone else will remind you_."

Harry felt himself flush hot, but before he could respond, Snape continued. "Next question. You lived with your Muggle relatives a long time, did you not?" When Harry jerked out a nod, the man proceeded, "Vernon and Petunia didn't have a habit of leaving their front door unlocked, did they?"

"No, sir," Harry replied tightly, feeling both angry about the reminder of the cruel family members he was forced to spend his summers with and confused by Snape's reference to them.

"As I thought," Snape drawled, inspecting his fingernails as though he were rather uninterested in Harry's response. "Third question, Mr. Potter. If my memory serves me well, the Dursleys keep a reasonably impressive garden. Do they allow the weeds to grow amuck in the summer, or do they pull them out?"

" _I_ pull them out," Harry countered crossly, "and have done since I was four. And they always lock the front door, much like how they used to lock the _cupboard_ they made me sleep in. What's your point, _sir_?"

Snape's eyes flashed, but he answered in a silky, quiet voice. "When I originally taught you the craft of Occlumency, Potter, I instructed you to clear your mind, even though I knew, of course, that there were other methods of approaching the art."

The professor paused, casting a glance at Draco's still shape. Harry fought down a fierce pang of guilt; after everything that had happened at the Ministry a few months before, after _Cedric_ , Snape was right – Harry should have been ready to defend Draco. The man before him, however, seemed unperturbed by the unconscious body as he continued, "You may have developed a new method of defense, Mr. Potter, but your mind is still quite vulnerable. You have had more visions."

"It's not exactly easy to stop them, _sir_ ," Harry responded through gritted teeth. He felt like his blood was boiling; back at Hogwarts it seemed that Snape was just as intolerable as he had always been before, just pointing out all his failures without ever _teaching_ him how to do it right.

"So I have seen," the man replied, although remarkably, his tone wasn't sardonic, but somber. "Shall we test Mr. Malfoy's mental defenses, then?"

Snape turned abruptly to Harry's left, and with a wave of his wand, the blond teen at his feet awoke. Before the warlock could complete the utterance of his invasive mental spell, however, Harry yanked his wand from his robes and cried, "Expelliarmus!"

Yet, rather than seeing his professor disarmed, he watched the man dodge his spell with a quick step backwards. "Very well, Mr. Potter," the man conceded with a small nod. "I see that some lessons _do_ eventually stick, after all. Now, Mr. Malfoy, a quick examination is in order, if your _ally_ here will allow it," he drawled. " _Legilimens_."

Harry watched the magical exchange with a sort of perverse curiosity. Draco seemed to fare better than he had, Harry could admit, although the blond teen's face was tense. Snape also appeared to spend less time rooting around in Malfoy's head than in his, Harry noted.

When Snape released Draco from the spell, Harry saw that the blond wizard's hands were trembling slightly, but he was quiet and appeared calmer than Harry himself felt. In turn, their tall professor's face was grave as he looked back and forth between the two teens. "Doors can be opened or broken down, Mr. Potter, and castle gardens must be carefully kept. In turn, Mr. Malfoy, pools of water can be drained and the contents left exposed, or they can even be used to drown an opponent in his or her own mind. It is much harder, however, to identify the weak points of a clear expanse of water."

The man wheeled around and made his way further into the gloomy chamber, motioning to tell the two teens to sit in the chairs in front of his desk. Harry followed Draco over to the desk and dropped into the chair closer to the door, eyeing Snape, who had settled into his own seat, steepling his fingers together. "If you find this strategy more manageable than simply clearing your minds," he said, studying the two teens, "then you must learn to use it with care. You both know more now than you once did, and while knowledge is power, it is also a vulnerability – _especially_ with the Dark Lord," he murmured sinisterly.

"If you mean what we learned looking through Regulus's things over the summer, _sir_ , than I'd say we still know rather too little," Harry spat, one hand massaging his throat. He glanced sideways at Draco, but the blond remained impassive.

Snape quirked one brow, then opened his robe slightly to pull out a vial that was tucked in a pocket against his chest. "Perhaps so, Mr. Potter." He held the flask up so that Harry and Draco could see the silver strand of a memory that quivered inside. Then he twitched his wand, and a large basin floated over from a nearby shelf to rest on the desk between them. "Have you ever used a Pensieve, Mr. Malfoy?" At Draco's jerky nod, Snape opened the glass bottle and gently shook the memory into the bowl. When the memory began to shimmer on the Pensieve's surface, he gestured to the bowl. "After you, gentlemen."

Harry felt himself tense – his last escapade into a Pensieve in Snape's office had not gone very well. But there was nothing for it. He and Draco leaned forward, and when his face touched the cool magic of the Pensieve, he felt himself whirl into a different type of world for the second time that evening.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

Draco immediately began scanning his surroundings when the Pensieve's magic deposited him into the memory. He had observed memories with his father several times in the Malfoy Pensieve and had never felt like he was in any danger, but recent experiences had taught him that it was probably better to just always be on guard. He recognized the room from the memory as Snape's own office, but it was different – for one, instead of Snape sitting behind the desk in the severe wooden chair he seemed to prefer, there was a stout, fat man with shiny blond hair perched on an overstuffed armchair. The man was picking through a box of candied pineapple in his lap, and was surrounded by half a dozen teenage boys, who were all wearing Slytherin badges.

"That's Tom Riddle!" Draco heard Harry hiss. He glanced at the other teen, who pointed out a tall, handsome young man with thick dark locks. "It's _Voldemort_ , when he was back at Hogwarts," Harry spat.

Draco immediately turned to his right to verify this new information with Snape, who nodded curtly. "Yes, Draco, Harry is right. And the professor is Horace Slughorn." When Draco heard Harry's sharp intake of breath at the name, he couldn't help but feel that he was horribly out of the loop. But before he could muse on how little he knew of his father's sworn master, Snape instructed them tersely, "Now, _pay attention_."

Draco returned his focus on the activity in the center of the room, where the boys were all gazing at Professor Slughorn, as if waiting for his response to some question.

The professor smiled at the Slytherin teenagers around him before looking at Riddle and pointing a wagging finger in his direction. "Tom, Tom, you know that it's not my place to confirm any rumors," he said with a wink. "But I have to say, I'm glad not to have to keep any secrets from you; you always know more about the goings-on in this school than half its staff!"

The dark-haired teen grinned and the other boys laughed and looked at him admiringly. Draco glanced sharply at Harry, who was intently watching the scene unfold and didn't seem to notice Draco's gaze.

"You've certainly got a way with people, my dear boy," Slughorn chuckled, gesturing to the gilded box of sweets with one hand and raising his wine glass in a toast to the teen in the other. "In fact, I very much anticipate that you'll rise to become Minister of Magic within a couple of decades. Less than that, even, if you keep sending me pineapple – I have a very good network at the Ministry."

The young Dark Lord responded with a small smile as the others chortled again. Draco studied their faces. He didn't recognize any of them as someone he knew personally, but an older boy to Riddle's left had the Parkinson line's short nose and might be Pansy's uncle, and a thickset boy closer to Slughorn had the chestnut curls typical of the Rosier family. What they all had in common, though, was the evident deference they showed to Riddle as their leader, even though some of them were older. They were all also obviously from families of the sacred twenty-eight, Draco judged, studying their refined features and careful postures on the stools that surrounded Slughorn's desk.

"I'm not sure I would enjoy a career in politics, sir," Riddle said when the other boys fell silent. "My background isn't exactly appropriate for the field."

Draco saw a few of the other Slytherins smirk in response to Riddle's remark, and he suddenly realized that he had no idea what the Dark Lord's lineage was. He had never thought to ask his father, since he imagined that Lucius would only ever agree to bow down to a pureblood of impeccable ancestry.

"Nonsense," Slughorn declared, shrugging off Riddle's negative reply. "I'm always right about my favorite students, Tom, and I know you'll thrive in any future you choose."

The brass clock on the walk sounded the turn of the hour and Slughorn jumped. "Sweet Merlin, it's already past curfew. You had best be on your way, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Parkinson, I expect you to have that essay done by tomorrow, or I'll have to take points. Same goes for you, Rosier."

The boys smirked again and bid the professor good night, filing obediently out of the room. Draco studied Riddle, who had stayed behind, and then shot a quick glance at Snape, who was still standing to his right, but was looking across toward Harry, rather than watching the memory progress in front of him. When the professor noticed Draco watching him, he nodded curtly towards Slughorn and Riddle and Draco redirected his gaze to the pair.

"Go on then, Tom; you're a prefect, you know, I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble on my account," Slughorn said sternly.

"Yes, sir, I just had a question for you."

"Well then, what is it, my dear boy?"

"Sir," Tom said quietly, "I was curious what you know about – about Horcruxes?"

Draco heard Harry suck in a breath, and his own muscles stiffened on their own accord. At his side, Snape was utterly still. In the brief pause that followed Riddle's question, Draco examined the old Potions professor. Slughorn's visage had changed and Draco could see that he was hesitating. His fat fingers were tense around the package of candied fruit. Yet, when he answered, his voice was steady, only slightly higher pitched. "Doing a bit of research for that Defense Against the Dark Arts project, are you?"

Draco recognized that Slughorn was showing his true Slytherin colors now. This conversation had become a dangerous dance, and it was obvious that Slughorn knew it, and knew that Riddle's conversation had nothing to do with schoolwork.

"Just so, sir," Riddle answered with a deferent nod. "I ran into the term while doing some extra reading, but I didn't fully understand it."

"Of course, of course… as it happens, the Hogwarts library is rather limited on that particular subject, Tom…" Slughorn said slowly, peering carefully into the glass of wine he still clutched in one hand. "They're very Dark, Horcruxes, very dark indeed…"

"But surely you know everything there is to know about them, right, sir? – Sorry – not to suggest – I just know how well-studied you are, so – well I thought if anyone would be able to tell me, you could – but I don't mean to be a bother, sir –"

Draco could have laughed, if the memory were a bit different, if it weren't the Dark Lord himself who was so clearly manipulating the corpulent Professor Slughorn. He recognized the hesitant tone, the earnest expression, the subtle flattery, all carefully measured. They were all strategies that he himself had used at different times to get what he wanted from people. It was apparent to him that Riddle was fervently seeking more information about Horcruxes, whatever they were, by any means possible.

Slughorn continued to avoid Riddle's gaze, instead leaning over to slosh more liquid into his goblet. "Well, I have always known you to be a dedicated student… an overview of the subject can't hurt, then, can it? Just to give the adequate background for the other research you're doing, of course… A Horcrux is the term used for an object in which a person has hidden part of their soul."

"I don't really understand how that works, though, sir," Riddle answered, his eyebrows knitting together in apparent confusion. Draco eyed the handsome teen's hands, which twitched slightly, and thought that they belied his voice and face.

Slughorn was now utterly incapable of hiding his discomfort, but he continued nonetheless. "Well, someone who wants to make a Horcrux would have to split their soul – separate part of it and hide it in some chosen object, outside the body. Then, although their physical body might be destroyed, they cannot die, because part of the soul remains undamaged. But of course… existence as a fraction of a soul in a Horcrux… it's a horrific alternative to death. Most anyone would say that death is preferable."

Riddle was leaning forward eagerly now, eyes glowing, and he prompted Slughorn further, "But how do you split your soul?" Draco felt a shudder run down his spine.

"Well," the Potions professor hesitated, "of course you know that the soul is not intended to be divided… Splitting it is unnatural, it's an abhorrent act."

"But how would you do it?"

"The soul splits when you commit an act of the deepest evil – when you murder an innocent soul. A wizard who wishes to create a Horcrux would kill someone, and purposefully employ the damage in his soul to his advantage… he would capture the torn piece –"

"Capture it? But how –?"

"There are ways, I would imagine, I do not know!" Slughorn threw up one hand as if to ward off a physical attack and then stared at Tom for the first time in several minutes, taking on a desperate, pleading tone, "Do I look like a murderer? Do I look as though I have tried such a thing?"

"Of course not, sir," Riddle blurted, "of course not. I apologize, I didn't mean to offend, I'm merely curious…"

"Don't apologize, dear boy…" Slughorn said brusquely, now waving the hand he still held up in the air as though he was shooing away a ghost. "It's natural to be somewhat curious about such things… Wizards with your level of intelligence are always inquisitive about certain areas of magic…"

"Yes, sir," said Riddle. "But, sir, I do wonder – I'm just curious, that is – would just one Horcrux be sufficient? Can the soul only be split once? Wouldn't it be preferable, and make you more powerful, to divide the soul in more pieces…? Seven is an important number in magic, wouldn't seven pieces be –?"

"Merlin, Tom!" Slughorn cried. "What a thought! Seven?! Isn't it bad enough to imagine killing just one person? And to divide the soul so… it's bad enough to divide it once but in seven pieces…"

Slughorn was gawping at Riddle with open despair now, and Draco peeked to his right to see that Snape, rather than horrified, was grave and had an air of stern determination.

Draco looked back to the memory to see Slughorn gripping the edge of his desk with trembling fingers. He sucked in a breath and then muttered, "But then, all of this is merely hypothetical, of course… Just an academic query…"

"Of course, sir," Riddle reassured him quickly.

"Yes, of course, just normal academic curiosity… but all the same, Tom – you mustn't mention the topic elsewhere. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know… but of course, you're just a dedicated scholar, that's all…"

"I swear won't say a word, sir. Thank you for your trust," Riddle responded smoothly, and he finally made his way from the room, passing by Draco and his two companions with an expression of jubilant, eerie happiness.

"That is all, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," Snape said calmly. "Let's retire to my office."

Draco carefully restrained a shudder when he pulled out of the Pensieve and looked around at Snape's office once again. It wasn't until he saw it with his own eyes that it sunk in that the Dark Lord had really been here, in Hogwarts, years prior. For some reason, he had never given much thought to the Dark Lord's early life, and it was disturbing to observe the dark wizard that he so feared at an age so close to his own.

At his side, Harry was already on his feet, leaning forward over Snape's desk and staring intently at the man before him. "So – the diary – it was a Hor—" Abruptly he choked and sputtered, and Snape let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Sit down, Potter," he drawled, gesturing to the wooden chair that stood vacant behind the raven-haired teen. When Harry hesitated, Snape merely raised one eyebrow. It wasn't until the teenager threw himself into the chair, rolling his eyes, that Snape murmured the counter-curse and Harry gasped, massaging his throat. "Really, Mr. Potter, you must learn to control yourself," the professor murmured.

"Can't you remove that stupid curse now?" Harry spat. "We know what _they_ are now! So, the diary?" he repeated, glaring fixedly at Snape. Draco thought Harry must have already seen this version of Tom Riddle more than once before, since he himself was still processing that aspect of the memory, and hadn't been able to really think through the full implications of the Horcruxes yet.

"No, I will not remove the curse," Snape said softly. "On either of you. I will only do so when I am confident enough in your Occlumency skills that the knowledge won't get either of you into trouble. Understood?"

Draco rapidly consented with a sharp nod, and when Harry finally muttered his agreement also, Snape continued. "And yes, Mr. Potter, the diary was a Horcrux. There was also a ring, which the Headmaster and I have every reason to believe was another Horcrux, and which he destroyed during the summer. If we presume that the Dark Lord followed through with his plan to divide his soul into seven pieces – and I suspect he did so indeed – and that he kept one piece for himself, residing in his body, then there would remain four Horcruxes yet to be destroyed. One of those four, I suspect, is the locket that you saw in Regulus's sketchbook."

The room fell silent for a moment. Draco glanced uneasily at Harry, then at his Head of House. He felt very out of place in the conversation, and wasn't sure why Snape had included him in it – he didn't know why the man hadn't just obliviated him, really, but he wasn't about to ask, either.

Draco saw Harry's hand balling into a fist around his wand as he slowly framed a second question, his voice gruff. "How long have you known about this, sir? And Dumbledore?"

"I began to suspect that something was amiss in your first year, but I was only told minimal details of the diary at the time, and thus was unable to give a name to my suspicions until this summer, after the Headmaster's encounter with the ring. I imagine Dumbledore knew much longer, knowing what he did of the diary. But neither of us had any idea that the Dark Lord might have made as many as six Horcruxes until I was able to retrieve the memory from Slughorn mere weeks ago."

Harry flew out of his seat once again, and the chair clattered to the floor with a bang. "HE KNEW ALL THIS TIME, AND HE NEVER THOUGHT IT WORTHWHILE TO _TELL_ ME?!" the teenager roared. "THERE'S A BLOODY PROPHECY SAYING IT'S VOLDEMORT OR ME BUT HE NEVER THOUGHT THIS LITTLE DETAIL MATTERED?!" Draco, horrified, couldn't rip his eyes from Harry's angry profile. There were red spots high on his cheeks, and his chest heaved. He seemed to have forgotten entirely that Draco was even in the room.

Snape, however, was still unbelievably composed. He rose to his feet and with a wave of his wand, Harry's chair was righted. "If you wish to continue this conversation, Mr. Potter, you will sit down and discuss it with at least a decent _performance_ of calmness."

Harry let out a furious groan and flung himself back into the chair. At that, Snape continued quietly, "I _demand_ control from you, Harry, because if you are unable to control yourself before me, you will never be able to control your mind before the Dark Lord. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry scowled.

"Very well. The Headmaster has made many wise decisions regarding the Dark Lord and your role in this war, Mr. Potter, but he has also made some with which I disagree. We have arrived at a point in which I believe it prudent to begin deciding some things for myself. My intentions are to win this war by whatever means necessary, but also not to uselessly endanger the people who are the unwilling pawns of it, namely yourself and Mr. Malfoy here."

Harry buried his head in his hands, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and somewhat muted. "I've always listened to Professor Dumbledore. But lately, he hasn't told me _bollocks_. Instead, it's been you and bloody Malfoy who are always around." He slowly raised his head, glaring at Draco, then at Snape. "Why should I trust either of you?"

Snape shot an appraising look at Draco before redirecting his gaze to Harry, who had dipped his head back into his hands. "Peter Pettigrew betrayed us all, Harry. There were signs, but nobody wanted to see them. It was easier, after the fact, to think that Black was the traitor, than to realize that we should have seen Wormtail for who he was all along." Harry's shoulders quivered, but he didn't look back up. Snape continued, "I can't tell you to trust me, or Draco. All I can tell you is to pay attention to our actions, not just our words, and then decide things for yourself."

Harry jerked to his feet and hurriedly turned his face away from Draco and their Potions professor, making his way to the door. "Thank you, sir, for showing me the memory," he said tightly, before slipping out of the office.

Draco ran a shaky hand through his blond locks before looking up at Snape, who had stood again at Harry's abrupt exit. "So, a prophecy, huh?" he asked, although with everything that had happened that evening, somehow this felt like the least surprising news. "Is it even possible to win this, professor?" he whispered, peering at the man. He felt certain that the Potions Master could read the panic and desperation in his eyes.

The older man was quiet for a long moment, and then he reached out and squeezed Draco's shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of warmth. "We'll find a way, Draco. Harry is strong, and so are you. You, Harry, me, Weasley, Granger, even Dumbledore – we'll all have our parts to play in this before the end." He paused and then squeezed Draco's shoulder again. "We'll find a way. Now go on, and get some rest. We'll talk more about all of this in a few days, once Potter's had a chance to calm down. Just keep practicing your Occlumency defenses and _be careful_."

Draco nodded, and made his way to the door. "Thank you, sir, for trusting me." He hesitated with one hand on the door handle, swallowing back bile at the idea that he was echoing the Dark Lord's words from decades ago. Yet, he felt it needed to be said, so he continued, "And I swear, I won't tell a soul – about any of it." He didn't wait for any response before exiting the room. He need time to think all this through.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

As the clock struck midnight, Severus poured himself another glass of Firewhiskey, which he quickly threw back with a groan. He had known that this would not be a pleasant conversation, he reminded himself. His son had every right to be furious – hell, he was angry too.

But right now, Severus was more worried than angry. He had seen something dark and insidious in Harry's mind the night of the vision with Nagini, and this evening, for the second time, he was concerned by what he saw there. The dark vine in the courtyard at the center of Harry's mind frightened him, even more so because he didn't know what it was, or what it meant. The way it lurked in Harry's mind reminded Severus of a long-term Imperius curse, or even a powerful Memory charm, but the boy's brain didn't show the normal signs of trauma that such spells would cause. Maybe what Dumbledore always said was right, Severus finally mused, and Voldemort's attack on Harry when he was an infant had just left permanent traces, scar tissue, as it were. Nonetheless, although Severus knew he would be busy training the young Slytherin and Gryffindors for what lie ahead, and tracking down the remaining Horcruxes, he promised himself he wouldn't forget about the mystery in his son's mind either. He meant every word of what he had said to Harry and then to Draco. He would find a way to win this war, whatever means necessary, and more than that, he would find a way to get his son out of this mess, _alive_.

 **x.T.a.T.x**

 **Author's note:** As you will all have realized, the scene with Slughorn's memory is heavily based on Chapter Twenty-three of _The Half-Blood Prince_ , although I tried to change most of the descriptions and dialogue. Credit where credit is due, Ms. Rowling. That being said – guys, I'm back! I hope I still have some readers out there. It was never my intention to leave it this long, but 2017 has been a heck of a year. Now I'm ready to continue on this journey once again! I'll do my best to update with Chapter 12 much sooner, but in the meanwhile, feel free to let me know what you think of the long-overdue Chapter 11!


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